


Checkmate Pattern

by RubixaSeraph



Series: Checkmate Fate [3]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dadgil, F/M, Family Reunions, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, V and Nero are siblings, fighting out of Mallet Island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 40,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubixaSeraph/pseuds/RubixaSeraph
Summary: Mundus thought himself to be good at chess. But he played chess against the wrong people, with the wrong pieces.He thought he had himself a knight, Nelo Angelo, when in truth it was the enemy king.He thought he had himself a pawn, Blanco Serafino, when in truth it was the enemy queen.And though he kept his “knight” collared and his “pawn” trapped, the disguised queen will still do as she pleases: for she will set the board, and lay the pieces.And Mundus won’t realize until the very end, that he was just one king on the far end of the chess board that is Mallet Island.But this isn’t Mundus’ story.This is the story of the chess pieces on the other side. Of family and friendship found among the ragtag pieces that came together against the Demon King.
Relationships: Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero's Mother/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Checkmate Fate [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111463
Comments: 14
Kudos: 28





	1. Ascended Monochrome

**Author's Note:**

> \- This is a canon-divergence of my canon-divergence. Yes, you read that right. (Related fic, if you are interested: [The Tower in Reverse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788444))  
> \- What if [Seraphina](https://blooddrop-palace.tumblr.com/post/621956755416662016%22) failed when she tried to save Vergil from Mundus’ grasp?  
> \- (And this occurs not long after she had told him they had a child that was likely still in Fortuna.)  
> \- *slaps fic* This bad boy can fit so much canon-twisting and canon-divergence in it.  
> \- Also Mundus is an idiot and an SSS Rank Clown. I have no regrets.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watch out, Mundus. Even pawns can be promoted into queens.

How pathetic and foolish. 

Mundus stared down at the two bloody forms before him. 

He had not expected for a human woman to be in Hell, nevermind that she would try to save the wretched Son of Sparda from his grasp. But it was of no matter. She was human. And she was weak. And the end result was that neither of them got far. 

Oh, he had plans for the whelpling of his former General. Just the thought of Sparda incited anger in him. How dare he betray him like that? 

Sparda… had been his pillar of strength for as long as he could remember. As the Prince of Darkness and the King of Hell, even after taking the fruit of the Qliphoth, Mundus gained much from the strength of the Devil Swordsman. 

Sparda could have had it all, and Mundus thought he spoiled his General enough. The throne did not interest the swordsman, but blood and combat? Those did. So long as Mundus provided his best General with the right challenges, Sparda was content. 

At least, so Mundus thought. 

He couldn’t fathom what changed. Or what it was that he didn’t see under the bloodlust of Sparda. But they had a disagreement, and Sparda sought to settle it in the language he knew best: through combat. 

At first, Mundus thought Sparda was just _bored_. Thought that his General wanted to _play_ under the guise of an anger that would be forgotten after a few rounds. What were a few small fleets of demon armies compared to his greatest General? He’ll gladly sacrifice a platoon or twelve to sate Sparda’s lust for combat. 

But then… twelve turned to twenty, to hundreds, to the beheading of his other generals, to a blade against himself. 

Something changed in Sparda. By then, Mundus had forgotten altogether why Sparda had lost respect for him at all. 

By then, jealousy and the hurt from betrayal won out: why was Sparda so powerful, when he, Mundus, was one upon the throne?

Why, after the fruit, was he still unable to compare to Sparda’s strength?

(What was it about him that was now unworthy of Sparda’s respect, anymore?)

And then he remembered: might controls all. 

In his defeat, his mind was set:

He will stop at nothing to continue to gain power, to break free of this disgusting _mercy_ from Sparda to seal him away. (Death would not have hindered him, truth be told. He would come back, though weaker, but he would rise again.) And once he does, he _will_ have his revenge upon the one devil that he had thought was loyal to him. 

_(It was because you weren’t strong enough, that he didn’t bow to you anymore…)_

So he bided his time, and waited. And listened. And oh, did the years make him bitter! Sparda sealed the gates, and wandered the human realm, mingling along the weak humans, to the point where he would create _offspring_ with one of them. 

In the millennia that Sparda had been under Mundus’ rule, Sparda never took a mate. Never seemed to consider or be interested in nestlings or anything of the like. The one exception had been the two disciples he took in, but even then, Baul and Modeus had earned their right to be taught, and they were at least of some form of maturity by then. 

Powerful demon lords such as that of Sparda would rarely produce offspring unless such a thing suited a certain purpose. Sparda only cared for combat, and thus Mundus never found it odd that Sparda took no mate. Besides that, even if he were to…

It should have been someone of equal standing, of equal might. 

For why would the Legendary Devil Swordsman ever have want for weak offspring?

Yet there it was, the whispers down the vines, down to Mundus’ ears, that Sparda yielded to a _human_ marriage with a _human female_ who was soon to bear his offspring...

The time following that was a furious blur for Mundus. He didn’t know how long it took for him to break a crack in the seal, but he did. He baited Sparda away, and he sent as many of his minions as he could against the miscreants that Sparda dared to form kinship with. 

With Sparda out of the picture, however, his vengeance was still not quenched. And the _whelpling_ survived, and managed to elude his grasp. 

But that was okay. That was fine… he could make use of the child. 

His minions brought back pieces of the human woman’s corpse. 

And now, the foolish Son of Sparda dared to think he had the strength to challenge the King of the Underworld, and brought himself to Mundus like the perfect self-offering. 

Picking him up, Mundus could already see where his design upon Vergil would fall. The demonic armor that would be just for him… a new General to replace the one that turned against him. But this time, there will be no freedom for this one. 

Mundus will not make the same mistake twice. This one will be on a tight leash. 

Now, as for the human woman…

He was going to keep her just long enough to feed her blood and flesh to his new General once he was suited up properly. After all, human blood was a prime source of power, and it wasn’t far fetched to see that this woman must have been some manner of companion to the whelp. Feeding her to him once he could no longer recognize her would be a fantastic show of devil-poetics. 

However, the snake-devil-arms upon her arms, and the clear signs that she had been ingesting demon and devil blood, piqued his interest.

Not many humans could handle the power or the corruption that came with taking in raw demonic essences. Furthermore, not many can handle having devil arms grafted into their body. 

Those snake-demons clearly consumed her arms and replaced them.

She was a rarity among humans. Not a witch, not a sorcerer, but something _attuned_ to the demonic. 

He didn’t have high hopes for her, but why waste a perfectly usable chess piece, when he could also modify her into some form of follower? 

Besides, what was the worst that could happen? If she fails to meet expectations, he could still feed her to his new General. 

So, after an amount of time, he put the two through the tortuous routine, poisoned them with his corruption, and modified their bodies to encase them into a devil-outfit that will one day consume them. 

He will cleanse them of being human. 

* * *

_Sssoooo, you will sssimply give up here?_

_No? Ah, but of courssse, that is not your nature, as you have not yielded to even usss._

_Very well. We like you more than we like that pathetic enstatued fool trapped on his throne…_

_We are your ssstrength now. Use your time wisssely._

* * *

Nelo Angelo was downright defiant and disobedient without discipline, whereas Blanco Serafino was oddly quiet at the start. But within days, it became apparent that Serafino reacted to Angelo, and it had Mundus experimenting to figure out what made them tick. After all, in observing their behavior, he would be able to find out the best ways to break them in. 

At first, Serafino did not seem to hold much promise in strength. But when Angelo’s tortured screams echoed in the dark palace halls for long enough, she eventually broke free of her first level of restraints, and clawed towards the source of the screams. Once, Mundus purposefully let her get past all of her restraints, and she flew down the halls directly to where Angelo was kept, tore apart every demon that was tasked to discipline him, and did the very disgusting human thing of comforting him. 

Yet, it was clear that some part of her must already be broken, for she made no attempt to escape with Angelo, or cause any further damage. Mundus half expected her to sing, but she never did. It was always touching, and staring. 

The devilish armor that Mundus had been grafting onto them were each taking shape, and as time went on, it was easy to see where the final forms would go. Nelo Angelo will become everything Mundus wanted of his image, to echo that of the Dark Knight he had lost. 

He didn’t care whichever way Blanco Serafino’s form would take, but the three hellish pairs of alabaster wings with three sets of eyes in each pair was a fine irony to everything. Her pallor became even more pale, her hair replaced with white down and feather. Her eyes glossed over into a deep red, and there were twin snakes that wound down her arms. 

She formed little armor, however. But that was fine by Mundus. He kept her as a pawn, and whatever she became, he would use. 

And it quickly became apparent that she incited obedience in Angelo. 

It was an inconvenient convenience, if Mundus were to be honest. Whenever Angelo disobeyed, continued torture did not prove effective until he was allowed respite in her arms. Even though she did nothing more than to recite some form of mundane human poetry at him at times, and said nothing else otherwise. 

Love and tenderness were such great weaknesses, because it was a leash that would choke you. However, Mundus had to concede on the fact that if he wanted a leash, then this was it. 

He dangled Serafino like a balm, and soon, Angelo became protective of her. And thus, Mundus found a new kind of torture, and that was to limit Angelo’s contact with Serafino whenever he disobeyed. There were times even when Mundus would turn the torture on Serafino, but she was nowhere near as fun to torture. At best, she would whimper… but that whimpering was always enough to put Angelo back in line, as he fiercely protected her. 

(What remained of the broken Yamato has been confiscated. The other shards were lost, but he was certain they would crop up at some point. Even in pieces, the power of Sparda’s blades will not go unnoticed by passing demons or devils.)

Yet that still did not feel like it was enough. He had to hit every weak spot he could find, in order to keep his new General on puppet strings. 

In a different far away chamber, after countless tries, he was fairly confident that his final chess piece was coming into fruition. 

* * *

_Ssso we bide…_

_Bide we ssshall…_

**He will not have him, for he is mine.**

* * *

The final simulacrum was a success, exactly what Mundus needed. The failures that at least resembled the image of Sparda’s disgusting human lover were used as tools of torture on Angelo. The sight of the mangled bodies were enough to make him fall into despair, and when it finally felt like enough, Mundus would send him to Serafino. 

But now, he had an added layer of deception. The simulacrum would imitate the mother based off of what memories he could lift from the dead woman. And he used her to make certain that Angelo would remain obedient. 

Seraphino, however, was surprisingly possessive, and was reluctant to let the simulacrum approach, at first. But she never made any real move against the creation, and Mundus simply took that to be a desirable result. After all, Seraphino was very easy to please… so long as she could ascertain that Angelo was safe, she never once kicked up a fuss. Even when Mundus tested her with questions on what she would want, she remained silent to him, and only continued to parrot poetry at Angelo as if they held meaning. (And Angelo never once spoke, either, not even in response to her.)

He kept her within a castle room that Angelo was allowed to reside in. She was not allowed to leave. Angelo was the only one that could bring her sustenance, when Mundus awarded his new General with the spoils of some red orbs from the kills he brought back for his master. This meant a tighter leash, for if he did not perform well, then Seraphino, too, will starve. 

So, this went on for a while. Every once in a while, he would send the simulacrum up to “check” on Angelo and his pet. Sometimes, he even used the simulacrum to relay orders to Angelo. The whelpling never became wise to how the intentions behind his mother’s mask was slowly poisoning his mind and memories. The boy’s real mother would never sweetly tell him to go out and kill a hoard of demons for harvest. But the corruption kept him addled and under control. 

Mundus could feel his strength returning. Though Angelo was of an inferior breed, his strength was still comparable. He brought back even more sustenance than Griffon. And with the “caged seraph” and the simulacrum to keep him obedient, the need for torture as discipline lessened. 

But just when Mundus was feeling confident in the turn of events, where he had the traitor’s son humiliated and under his grasp, and a steady stream of offerings to help replenish his own strength, the wretched ability for the Sparda Blood to remain obstinate and unpredictable reared its head. 

One day, Nelo Angelo came back from his mission with his offerings from his kills, but tucked under his arm was also something extra: pelts skinned from certain demons he must have encountered on the mission. 

He did not offer the pelts to Mundus along with the orbs. He stared forward blankly as usual, not offering any commentary, only bowed when he arrived, and waited for Mundus to dismiss him. (Praise was sometimes given through the simulacrum.)

Mundus thought it over, and decided to see what Angelo would do with these pelts, and simply dismissed him. 

A while later, he sent the simulacrum up to see what was going on. 

She came back, and in a bored manner, reported: “There isn’t much to say, sire. I praised him for his mission well-done, like you asked me to. The pelts have been added to the bedding. I suppose he wasn’t too happy with the old one.”

Something still seemed off. Angelo hardly slept. This was something reported by Griffon, who often liked to mess with the castle’s new occupants by spying through the window, which they never drew the curtains for anyway. Even when they were “resting,” someone always had their eyes gazing through the window, as if they were on the watch for enemies. 

Sometimes Griffon would squawk at them through the balcony window, trying to get a rise out of them. But neither Angelo or Serafino gave him any interesting responses. Griffon thinks their new General was boring. 

* * *

**He remembers, deep down, somewhere.**

**Survive. Persevere. Be patient.**

**I will find the opportunity to get us out of here, someday.**

* * *

A certain amount of time later, as several pelts were added to the collection about the bed, Mundus realized belatedly what was happening. 

He didn’t expect this defective product to do anything more than be his killing machine. Instead, Angelo exhibited a classic and common kind of behaviour that any devil might develop: nesting. 

This realization came in when the simulacrum returned very shortly after she was sent to go check up on things. Too shortly. She had an unamused expression upon her face, which was a recent and new development. 

The devil woman was starting to grow a personality, and Mundus cared not where the personality went so long as she could continue her act as “Eva” for Angelo, and remained obedient to him. 

After all, he had shown her already what were the consequences of failure. 

“You must have something to report, if you’re back so soon.” He stated. 

“I have just had to play the very human part of being surprised and having to flee the scene.” She rolled her eyes.

Griffon snickered from his perch. “Oh, what? You only just now got to see it? I’ve caught a glimpse of it through that balcony already. This isn’t the first time.” He glanced over towards Mundus, ever the blabbering parrot despite his loyalty: “Your precious _angels_ are a mated pair now. You think we’ll get an army of cherubim from this?”

Well, for all of his want of _replacing_ the hole left by the traitorous Sparda, he didn’t expect for his replacement to be so wantonly opposite of Sparda, either. More to the point, Angelo was still a mutt; a hybrid between two species that should not be allowed to mingle like such. Would such a product be able to produce anything? Or was it just an act of depravity he was chasing?

No. Mundus knew this wasn’t the nature of things. Devils who reveled in debauchery did not court their targets. Angelo had brought back pelts, and those were not for the bed alone. It was for a nest. He created a nest for his caged bird, and that told Mundus of everything of Angelo’s intentions. 

He scoffed, disgruntled at the thought. “She was made with a human at the core. I would hardly think she is whole enough to be more than a decoration or a toy.”

Griffon ruffled his feathers a little. “Ah, sure, sure. She is just a toy for him, isn’t she? Like a human infant’s teddy bear. He goes back to her without fail. Well, at least this is a bit more of a show than Blanco reciting boring poetry.”

“Sire,” The simulacrum started. “How should I proceed from here?”

Mundus thought about it. Even he did not know what could result between a devil-human hybrid and a human-turning-devil. It’s not unheard of that a human completely turned into a devil would be able to leave some form of cursed offspring, but this…

“Continue monitoring them.” He decided. And for extra measure, he narrowed his eyes and added: “And if she _whelps_ , bring it to me.”

* * *

_Thisss wasss not part of the plan._

_Thisss will be a hindranccce._

**It matters not. You will let my body keep it, because I demand it.**

* * *

As it turns out, Serafino did begin to incubate some manner of unknown being within her body. And the testy temperament often seen in mated pairs was beginning to cause problems. The simulacrum was the only one who could get close at first, and for fear of breaking the deception she had to weave, she had to remain gentle and tender.

Any other minion dispatched to anywhere near the chambers while Angelo was there were cut down by summoned swords. And when he was not there, Serafino suddenly showed a terrifying amount of raw power in her banshee-screams, the snakes wound about her arms no longer just decorative. 

Even Griffon lost a few feathers when he got too close to the balcony window. 

The only minion that managed to not immediately incite hostility were Shadows. 

Shadows never seemed to care much about the new residents of the castle, up until recently, when Mundus ordered one to try and check out what was happening within Angelo’s chambers. Because the shapeshifters were known to not become hostile until something else initiated hostility, both Angelo and Serafino warily let it be. 

Eventually, the one Shadow decided this chamber was a better resting place, and did not even have to be commanded by Mundus to go check things out. It remained at the foot of the bed, and was able to relay a little more to Mundus of the ongoings within that bedroom. 

Serafino spoke more than before. It was still poetry, or some form of rhyming speech. She spoke nowhere near as much as Griffon did, but even when Angelo was not there, she was reading, or reciting. Mundus came to the conclusion that she was chattering to that unknown factor growing in her stomach, which seemed like an absolutely pointless thing to do. 

And as for the _thing_ growing in her stomach, there was no telling what it could be. Likely an abomination. But they will all have to wait and see. 

Perhaps it would claw its way out of her stomach. She might not survive that. Mundus wasn’t sure if that was an acceptable outcome, seeing as mated devils who circle their mates tend to go berserk if they lose said mate. 

Or perhaps the offspring will not survive. Even mated pairs have been known to _eat_ their own offspring. 

But should this mutt survive, then that was one more pawn. Better yet, it could be a pawn that requires no deception or corruption. Raised to be loyal from the start. 

* * *

That last plan, of course, would not come to fruition easily. But Mundus didn’t care. He had time. And more importantly, there was no proof yet that there was potential in this new whelp. 

It was born looking everything like a human infant, not a trace of demonic to be gleaned from his physical form. But the wretched abomination had the pure white hair that Mundus recognized as a mark of _Sparda_. For when Sparda did not don the fully armored look, what passed for hair was that same bright white. 

And Mundus could not lay a hand on it. Every minion who got close without permission was cut down, and even the simulacrum was not allowed to hold it for the longest time. 

Angelo, however, did allow the simulacrum to come near enough to see the infant. She later reported to Mundus that she had to disgustingly praise the little grub as “beautiful” and “precious,” which did get some measure of approval from Angelo. 

In all the millennia, none of Mundus’ high ranking and powerful subordinates formed mated pairs. A small handful were the type to mate and then part to leave the breeder to incubate. One or two were the kinds who consumed their male partner. Another handful did not produce offspring sexually, at least not in the sense that required an able-bodied participant. 

He was beginning to find the dynamic of a mated pair to be a headache. Devils made for territorial and highly aggressive mated pairs. 

And the little grubling was every bit as useless as a human infant. Weak. Small. In far more need of protection than what a newborn devil of a powerful lineage ought to need. Mundus could imagine it now, the pathetic start of what Nelo Angelo once was. 

He had half a mind to call Serafino to the throne with her little abomination, slay them, and feed them to Angelo. But he knew that would unravel everything he’s built up so far, and it would be counterproductive when weighed against the fact that Angelo was bringing back even more kills than before. 

And he knew why. His new General had the gall to make a wordless request from his master, for more sustenance. But even after taking his increased share, what was left was still more than what he used to bring back. 

It was a smart move, and though disgruntled, Mundus knew better than to get between a parental devil and their duty to feed their mate and their young. For some devils, it was a matter of life and death, for the mate who bears the offspring may consume their partner instead. 

The most curious thing reported thus far, was that though Serafino took in the red orbs for sustenance, she does something that devils do not: she lactates. 

The whelpling was fed off of whatever “milk” that was produced from her body. 

The closest equivalent in the underworld were devils that might start off feeding their young with their own blood. 

It was the small victories, Mundus supposed. 

A mate and a whelpling would mean Angelo won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. The child will be an additional shackle, and it remains to be seen if it will become anything more. 

* * *

“Hey, the little grub’s got a name.” Griffon mentioned one day. “Serafino calls him _V_. Even as demons go, that’s a shitty name!” He cackled. 

“It’s short for Vitale.” The simulacrum noted with disinterest as she played with the sparks at her fingertips. “Though she may have just named him after the cover of that book she retrieved. Wasn’t that one of the effects found on Angelo’s person before he was turned?”

Mundus tuned out the rest of the inane conversation of his subordinates. What the child was named mattered not. The wretched little thing, however, existed as an obnoxious proof of measure of time. 

He didn’t know exactly if the whelp was growing at the same rate as a human infant, but the changes in growth could be observed. Still, it wasn’t as if all devils and demons matured at the same rate, so this was not an issue either. 

He had time. All the time in the world. Angelo will keep bringing him kills, until the day comes where Mundus would be strong enough to fully resurrect. 

What was obnoxious, however, was that the infant became a source of distraction for his subordinates. They were his eyes and ears, since he could not leave this blasted chamber for the time being. And while it was fine that they brought him reports, it became increasingly plain that some of his subordinates were visiting the chambers of Angelo because of the new infant. 

Shadow had already begun to take residence, likely due to the fact that was where it was least challenged. Angelo and Serafino did not bother to test its temper, so it found _sanctuary_ there. The simulacrum visited more regularly, at first with the excuse that “it’s appropriate for the mother figure to be curious over some manner of grandchild.” She always came back as if she didn’t care, and reported the child’s growth to him. But he wasn’t certain if he needed _daily_ reports at this point. 

And Griffon, that absolute bird-brain, found amusement in one-sided conversations with the babbling infant. It wasn’t as if the child had enough intelligence to respond in anything of value! But not only was Griffon having a blast conversing with a being that _might_ understand what he’s saying but couldn’t (and so far wouldn’t) tell him to shut up, but Serafino _allowed_ it. Even so much as sitting closer to the balcony with the infant to let the bird-brain talk to it. 

Well, no matter. The caged-bird and her whelp can remain an entertainment to all, so long as they did their parts. 

And Mundus thought little more of it, since other than the birth of that child, nothing new occurred for a long while. 

He didn’t notice how much went unreported. 

Shadow was being bribed by Serafina’s milk on a plate. 

Griffon enjoyed riling up the mated pair where he could, and made a game out of getting just a little too close until Angelo shot swords at him or swiped at him with his sword. But when Angelo wasn’t there, Griffon would babble on for hours at V and Serafino, because Serafino did not tell him to shut up or go away. 

The simulacrum, even, began to visit those chambers even when Angelo was not there for her to play her role on. Mundus did not even realize that the artificial devil went there so that she _didn’t_ have to be “Eva,” but also didn’t have to be alone and under scrutiny. Serafino began to converse, something that she would not even report to Mundus, for the conversations were short and cryptic, and they made the simulacrum doubt her place in the system.

As the little hybrid grew, Shadow even strangely did not mind the tyke climbing all over it. 

The fact that Serafino had been taking Angelo’s blood and giving him hers in return went unreported. 

The books that the simulacrum dug out of the library to bring under the excuse of “props for gaining their trust” while interacting with Vitale wasn’t seen as a problem. She even found a chess board, to play chess with him.

When Vitale became old enough to speak back, Griffon took much delight in trying out banter, though whenever he spoke in a manner that Serafino unapproved, he found it funny that she still did not chase him away, though she did chastise. 

Mundus missed all of this, believing that the child’s only use had been entertainment for his subordinates. And entertainment wasn’t a bad thing, so long as they continued to do their jobs. 

And then…

He discovered the existence of _Dante._

* * *

_Sssilver-tongued queen of few wordsss…_

_You ussse our elixir well…_

* * *

Seraphina Valkyrie knew that time was running out. 

But had it not been for this child, she would not even know how much time might be passing. 

The longer they remained trapped here in the Underworld, the longer she was away from her home. And there was something _pressing_ that she must get back to, up above. 

She could not count years down in the Underworld, but she had a decent idea of the passage of time since Vitale was born. For a child that was growing on red orbs and milk alone, the only fault in his form was that he was thin, though he at least did not look starved. 

He rarely left the room that she had been sealed within. Mundus had placed special wards that kept her from leaving. When Vitale did get to leave the room, Shadow accompanied him, but he never went far. 

Vitale understood the human tongue in which Sera spoke in, but he always spoke back to her and everyone else in Infernal, save for a few details: 

He knew her as Mama. 

And recognized Vergil as Papa. 

It broke her heart that Vergil never responded back with words, or seemed to understand anything beyond the fact that she and their child needed to be protected. 

And her heart, again, ached for her firstborn, whom she did not even know if they survived. 

On the topic of Vergil, she learnt his name from the very book that he had kept on his person. She held back emotions when she found out, giving no one the knowledge that she was still lucid within her prison. It was written inside the book cover, and she discovered that he still kept the pages of poetry she had written and given him as a parting gift. 

When the apparent Demon King finally allowed her regular contact with Vergil, she took to carefully feeding him her blood. The Ophidian Duet, the twin snakes that had once eaten her arms, were now her only allies. Awoken and with no love for the once-beaten Emperor, they subtly cleansed her of the corruption Mundus had forced into her, and made the demonic grafts hers to command, instead letting them become her puppet strings. 

But freeing Vergil from the persona of Nelo Angelo was no easy task. She knew that even if she freed him, they would not get far. And there would be no second chances. She had to wait, and listen, and see where she could find a better chance. 

For now, she did two things, with the elixirs from the Ophidian Duet administered through her blood: gain enough of the Emperor’s trust to stay under the radar, and protect Vergil’s remaining sanity. 

The elixir kept most of his consciousness buried from the corruption to the body. By sealing away most of his mind, she made it seem like the corruption was doing its job. Devilish instincts still prevailed, however, as did some of his subconscious. There will come a day where this divide might give him nightmares and trouble when he is freed, but she will cross that bridge when it comes. 

She did not expect, however, for the nesting. She further did not expect him to seek her for physical comfort. Denying him, however, made him more aggressive, and she also missed him too much to deny him to the end. 

The result was Vitale. His name was picked out the moment she knew of his existence within her. A name picked as a good luck charm to remind her of her goal. (She didn’t think she was capable of having another child, since she had just about disemboweled herself in the past to save her firstborn.)

Vitale was probably getting close to age seven or eight. She can’t continue to raise him here in the Underworld. She worried that maybe even now, it was a little late and the child was going to have a hard time acclimating to the human world when they get back…

Because, for one thing, at roughly around age five, he had unraveled some of the spells that made Shadow a _Shadow_ , and re-bound it to him. 

He also, since understanding pronouns a little better, referred to Shadow as a “her.” Sera wasn’t too sure if Shadows even have gender, but the big cat didn’t care, and simply _allowed_ herself to be bound to a new master. Thankfully, the contract markings (as that’s what those were, right?) were only on his back, so with the clothing that she managed to form for him out of her own limited demonic power, she covered them from scrutiny. 

But since then, Seraphina began to see where she could lay her threads, and build a net. Shadow was a simple demon: she liked her young master, and liked her young master’s protector. (Angelo did not seem to care either way, so Shadow remained indifferent towards him.) From how Vitale spoke to Shadow, Sera had no doubt that he understood something about Shadow’s simple emotional states that no one else could. 

Griffon, meanwhile, was a returning guest, in some ways. At first, he was obnoxious, always coming around trying to bother her and Angelo, but now…

“Hey, little poet! What are you reading today?”

Vitale’s reading skills grew at a rate that Seraphina felt was faster than she expected, though many times he still required her assistance, and asked her to explain things.

“Nothing you would like. It’s something Eva says is called a play! She says these are better to be watched than read, though. But I don’t really understand what she means. You don’t watch words. You read words!”

“Heh, guess tyke like you wouldn’t know what a stage play is. It’s a silly form of art up in the human world. Not that devils can’t enjoy art. Mundus has an empty unused theater around the palace somewhere. Too bad we won’t be finding anyone to put on a show for ya.”

Honestly, Sera didn’t think Griffon would know much of anything about the human world, but it appeared that there was a time in which he had gone over with Sparda. 

Speaking of Sparda, to hear the Saviour be referred to as a Traitor with a capital T was something that gave Sera mixed feelings. She couldn’t, however, outwardly object to Griffon and the human-looking devil-woman from speaking of Sparda like that. But sometimes, when Griffon settled down a little, he would say things like: 

“Shame Sparda had to get himself in such a big twist against Mundus. Sometimes I don’t even know what happened there, anymore. We were all unstoppable, especially him. And then he had the biggest disagreement of all time with Mundus and… poof. Gave us all a beating and left us all behind.”

“He sounds like a big meanie. Like the scum that gets too close and makes papa mad.” (He learnt that word from Griffon. Sera was not too pleased about it, but she also couldn’t disagree with Griffon that the lesser demons were scum.)

“Oh, he was a big meanie, alright! The biggest and meanest of them all! Could slay armies all on his own! You know what we called him before he became Traitor? _The Legendary Dark Knight_. No one could beat him! In the end, not even Mundus… and well, that’s why we’re here and he’s a Traitor. But Mundus will resurrect, and show everyone who’s boss…”

Something in the way Griffon spoke of Sparda, however, sometimes made Sera wonder if the big bird-devil was really only loyal to Mundus in order to keep on living. Though he called Sparda a Traitor, he also had many things to recount about the Devil Swordsman that almost seemed wistful. 

She filed that away for later. 

And on the topic of “Eva” the devil-woman…

Seraphina was a smart woman. She put two and two together. This devil was made to imitate Vergil’s mother, whom Sera gathered as the one that accounted for his human blood. She despised her at first, this simulacrum. But as time went on, and “Eva” started to come to her chambers even when Angelo was not here, she realized there was a spark of hope:

Perhaps this imitation was more human than she realized. And that meant she could be appealed to. So, with carefully constructed words, in poetry of her own make, she made the devil-woman question her own purpose and identity. 

This, she all did subtly. 

And then, one day, while Vitale was taking a nap, the simulacrum came to her and told her: “I’m going to the human world.”

Sera blinked, and stared, waiting to see what she would tell her, though her heartbeat threatened to pick up at the prospect that she had a chance to do something for once. 

“Mundus caught wind of a devil hunter topside, by the name of Dante.” She started. 

The gears began to turn in Sera’s head. But before she could come to her own conclusions, the simulacrum revealed: “So it turns out Sparda didn’t have just one son, but two. And the brother has begun kicking up a fuss topside, slaying devils and demons that dared to slip through the cracks. Mundus is… going to roll out a red carpet for him.”

So, he was going to use “Eva” to bait and trap Dante? This won’t do. Sera didn’t know exactly what kind of person this Dante was going to be, but if he was Vergil’s brother, then there was some form of hope. If he were strong enough, and if she could get to him before Mundus broke him, then they might be able to all mount an escape…

 _Or perhaps,_ another part of her thought, _even vengeance._

“Little bird in a rusted cage, who never saw an outside day; freedom in this task to gain, but would one then come back for chains?” She spoke to the room, as if in no one in particular. 

The devil remained silent for a moment, folding her arms and glancing down. “You’re not making sense again. You know Mundus would never let you out of this room. And I sure won’t be helping you, either.” She muttered, careful to not wake Vitale. 

“A bird in a cage, a hound on a leash, a worm upon a hook, or a bait within a trap. Forever a tool for the master it serves, forever a tool until the day it breaks. A hammer is but metal and wood reformed. Transmute the materials, and given new name, it will also be given new purpose.”

And the simulacrum scoffed. “Yes, that’s what happened to you, isn’t it? Made into Nelo Angelo’s pet. Remade and re-named. Stay here in your cage, Blanco Serafino. I came here only to let you know I’ll be gone for a while. Make sure the little nestling doesn’t miss me too much.”

As she turned, Sera felt compelled to break her façade just this once, in hopes that it would give the simulacrum incentive to further rethink herself: “Seraphina.”

“Sorry, what?” She turned before entirely leaving through the door. 

“My name is Seraphina Valkyrie. That has never changed. And it never will. So I ask: Who are you?”

The devil-woman glared at her, but did not respond as she silently left, closing the door. 

* * *

When the simulacrum next came back into Mundus’ presence, she donned a completely different look than the outfit she was made to imitate the human woman Eva. Black leather, hardly covering anything as compared to Eva’s ensemble. This was curious to him for only but a moment, but she knelt before him and stated:

“Master, from what little we know of Dante, it would do little good to go to him as Eva. If he’s anything as the rumors say, he would know immediately what I am, and would be likely to slay me on the spot before I can even set our trap.”

He had anticipated this, and thought that he would have to give the simulacrum a plan before she left. But it seemed she was of more use than to be a tool of deception against Nelo Angelo. 

“And what do you propose?” He tested her. 

“Being of Eva’s likeness would be enough to get his attention, but I will introduce myself as a defector. It will serve as a better way to make him drop his guard against me over time, than to pretend that he has to save me as his mother. I will, however…” She paused, as if unsure of how to continue. 

“Continue.” He prompted, wanting to see what was it she would boldly ask for. 

“I will need a new name. Separate myself from Eva in every way but her likeness. Stoke his sympathy instead of his rage. After all, he seeks to avenge his family, and as a devil, I cannot hide from him that I am not his mother.”

Perhaps her time spent deceiving Angelo, and also interacting with Serafino and the new whelpling, was more useful than previously planned. In order to deceive Angelo, the simulacrum had to understand how the human part ticked, because no matter how hard Mundus tried, he could not rid Angelo entirely of the part that made him human. So, instead, he controlled it with corruption and deception. 

With what little information they had of Dante, this young artificial devil was already forming a sound plan of attack. 

“Very well. You have earned at least that much.”

“Then, sire, my name…?”

Still, he could care less what she was going to be called, so long as she played her part. She was but a pawn, compared to the knight that was his new General. 

“Pick your own. Whatever helps to bring the wretched Son of Sparda to me. You know what end result you must bring to me.”

“As you wish, my master.” And with that, she was dismissed. After she left in a flash of lightning, Mundus considered the rest of his moves. 

Getting Dante to Mallet Island was the easy part. Even without the simulacrum, there were many other ways, just as easy, to leave a trail for the wretched hunter to pick up. 

But he was no fool. It has been some time, and Dante had been making a name for himself in hunting down the denizens of Hell. Whispers told Mundus that Dante was seeking information on the one responsible for the loss of his family. He would come more prepared than Vergil did, and possibly stronger. 

Preparations were not going to be easy. After Mundus had been sealed, Sparda had gotten the help of certain humans to set a series of obstacles in the way of re-opening the sealed gateway on Mallet Island. Though over time, the castle upon the island was beginning to crumble, the occultic magic held fast. They were a last defense against a weakening seal upon the gate, and paradoxically were tied to the gate. Bringing them away from the gate would diminish their power and thus weaken the seal. Hiding them away and making inane traps and puzzles was the only other way to hinder the opening of the pathway. 

But Mundus could still send smaller demons through. The weakened seal upon the gate mostly prevented larger powers such as himself from breaking through.

As part of his preparations, while he used his returning power to connect more and more of his palace in hell with his cursed castle cathedral upon Mallet Island, he made sure to set Angelo’s chambers as a point of interest. After all, there was no fun in this revenge, if he didn’t pit Sparda’s offspring against each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Here I am, trying to rationalize why there’s this elaborate old-game-styled puzzle to trek through.   
> \- Originally this story was supposed to be angst, but now I feel like I’ve written a chapter of comedy. “The comedy and tragedy of the downfall of Mundus.”


	2. Full Set on Board

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dante arrives, and Sera could always use another knight on her board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Recently I did some further digging into the DMC novels that I never really bothered to read fully, and realized that Capcom did some (in my opinion) much-needed retcon for a few things. I’m actually quite pleased that “Gilver” is a separate entity.  
> \- Also, I’m going to go with the idea that Dante (and subsequently Vergil) does have some means of carrying weapons of demonic nature on him via some sort of hidden space/dimension logic, however, he has a limit on how much he can carry and it’s determined by magical means that I don’t think needs to be explained.  
> \- Yes, I am forever bothered by “logistics” and it’s a flaw of mine.

Dante simultaneously had a lot going on in his mind, and nothing at all, when he finally decided to check out Mallet Island. 

To be honest, he wasn’t even sure if he was going to get paid in any way from this. And “putting an end to The Underworld” sounded so farfetched, he might as well be chasing clouds. 

But here he was, the nagging feeling that he couldn’t just leave the situation be bringing him headlong into what was obviously a trap. 

But hey, when in doubt, smack it, right? Fighting was all he’ll ever know, and all he’ll ever do right. Sure, Lady might call him a “jack-of-all-trades,” but he thought that was just because he wasn’t entirely human, so some of the human stuff was trivial in a way that didn’t count as an accomplishment for him. 

Marionettes and obnoxious search for scattered items… some of these items felt occultic, alright. And he was beginning to regret leaving Rebellion at home. He had chosen to only bring the Force Edge this time, because he had a feeling whatever was going on could be served a big heaping of poetic justice using the sword that contained a lump of Sparda’s powers. 

And maybe he’d have to do some sealing, too. Damn would it be nice to have the Yamato, but nope… not going to think about that. He’s not sure how he’ll use Force Edge if he had to seal something, but like anything else, Dante was going to cross that bridge when he got to it. 

But Force Edge was also not exactly his usual weapon, and really, he was beginning to regret bringing it. But thankfully, there was a perfectly fine and usable devil arm by the name of Alastor just left around this building. Dante wasn’t sure what the lord of this domain was thinking, leaving such a serviceable sword just lying around to add to his arsenal. (Oh, he knew. Mundus was probably hoping Alastor would deal a hefty blow to him and immediately strike him down, so that he would be slave to the blade. But Dante would be damned if something like that could keep him down.)

After dealing with more than a handful of obnoxious pests, including one overgrown arachnid and one of Mundus’ overgrown house-pets, he found himself appraising the run-down bedroom that once must have been glorious. 

Something felt off, however. He kept feeling like someone, or multiple someones, were watching him from the bed. But no one was there the first time he looked about the room. The most eerie thing was probably the mirror, so he examined it for a while, though not before taking a vain moment to appraise himself. (If he were going to slave over this entire castle just to find Mundus, he might as well make sure he’s looking good while he’s at it.)

That was when, from the corner of his eye, he finally saw something.

The reflection was faded, and going in and out, but he could kind of make out the image of people sitting in the bed. 

Glancing back, the bed was still empty. But turning back to the mirror, he would squint and see that there were indeed people there. So, something that could only be seen in the reflection of this mirror, huh?

A white feathery angel-looking devil sat upon the bed. Dante knew better… there were no angels. Only devils in the guise of angels. Six wings, extra eyes in said wings, and barely covered alabaster skin. In fact, she was probably not wearing anything, if the way a pair of her wings were wrapped about her waist was any given indication. 

Another Shadow could be seen in the scene, too, lounging on the bed, clearly staring at him. Damn, he wasn’t sure if he could fight that if he couldn’t see it. But stranger-still was what the devil held within her arms, half-protected with her other pairs of wings:

A child. He looked almost out of place in this scene. Too human, dressed in simple black clothes. A shirt, a pair of pants. No shoes though. He was holding a book tightly to his chest, a look of wariness written all over his face. 

His hair was so pale that it was hard to pick it out from against the alabaster skin of the devil holding him. And the way that her arm encircled his shoulders was almost…

Motherly. 

Turning around again, he still saw no one upon the bed. Slowly, he walked towards the tattered bed. No dents to show who may be sitting there. No sign of anyone being there at all. And yet, he heard a whisper in the air:

“Let reflection be set free  
To bring truth back into the light.

Let the blade of bonds of blood  
Mend the mind, the heart, the soul.

Remember a past that parts the gloom  
To reunite, half with half.

Set free every caged bird in his grasp  
And this day shall be his last.”

Well, he wasn’t being attacked, but Dante didn’t really like this kind of cryptic bullshit. Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned around to glance at the mirror again. 

Yep, still there, those reflections that weren’t actually on the bed. But now he was noticing that the room in the mirror looked a lot better, more kept, than the one he was standing in. There were even fur pelts all over the bed. Looked comfy. Did devils care for comfort?

Deciding he was wasting enough time, and if there wasn’t a fight to be had here, then he ought to just move on, he said to the room without knowing if its pseudo-occupants could hear: “If you don’t give me trouble, then I won’t give you trouble. Hope you aren’t too attached to the old fart on the throne, though. Laters.”

When he left through the doors, all he heard was: “Saviour be with you, Dante.”

Not thinking too hard about it, he made his way down, then all the way up to grab a shitty ritual sword (if it can’t be used to kill something then it was a shitty sword in his books,) and made his way back into the room to get the orb (soul???) from the melancholy statue. 

He had glanced over to the mirror before inserting the blade. Yep. Occupants in the bed were still there, though the devil woman was holding the child even closer now. 

After retrieving the orb, however, he felt a presence from the mirror, and thought that maybe the occupants of the room were finally going to challenge him. 

Instead, his reflection walked out to reveal a large armored knight. One that was oddly _cordial_ though obviously here to fight him. He wondered for a moment if it was concerned about the occupants of the room. 

But Dante didn’t have time for those thoughts. He followed out through the balcony, and if he were being honest, nothing was better than a clash of blades. Slaying big devil beasties was one thing, but an opponent who knew how to wield a sword was a different kind of exhilaration.

But it was the end of the fight that had him concerned. Clutching the pendant that seemed to have driven the knight off, he had to ask himself: what did this mean?

But he wasn’t given much of a chance to think. He heard a child’s voice call from the balcony below: “Papa!”

Confused at just who was calling out for their dad, and whom they were calling out for, Dante jumped down to investigate, only to find himself jumping right into a Shadow that was spinning towards him. 

“What did you do to papa?” 

Collecting himself, Dante looked around and found the source of the voice. It was the child that was in the mirror. Clearly not in the mirror any longer. This time, when the Shadow tried to pounce, Dante immediately whipped out Ivory and Ebony to shoot down the big cat. 

“Where is papa, you big meanie!” The child that looked human demanded as he came down from the balcony. The height that he was jumping from was too high for a child, and even Dante lost his logical thinking as he shouted: “Hey, kid! Don’t—”

But the boy didn’t seem to care, as he landed just fine. But from above, there was a scream, and a flash of wards as something hit themselves against said wards: “Vitale! No! Come back!”

That voice, Dante knew without a doubt, belonged to the voice that spoke to him in the room. 

The Angel-looking devil that held the child like he were her own, perhaps was more motherly than he thought? 

Unfortunately, some of Dante’s options were limited. The Shadow was relentless, and he shot it down until it’s core was exposed. He was about to grab Alastor to give the demon a beat-down, but the kid darted between them. “Shadow!” 

Of course, Dante stayed his blade. Though something about the child felt off, Dante’s heart wasn’t so far gone that he wouldn’t hesitate to swing. 

And more than that, the white hair, the general stature and age of the child…

Dante was surprised to find himself thinking of a time long past, when he would look in the mirror, but also look beside him, to see his likeness scowl at him. 

He thought about Vergil, when they were kids, before everything went up in flames. 

A horrid thought crept into his mind as he lowered the sword and stared for half a second. He had no doubts that Trish looked the way she did in order to garner his attention and lead him into a trap. Was this kid also made for the same purpose? Nevermind how…

But as he took a moment to _really_ look at the kid, he could see traits that differed the child from his memory of his and Vergil’s youth. In addition, the eye colour wasn’t right. Dante figured that if Mundus could create a demon like Trish that was physically everything like Eva, then the differences in this kid meant he wasn’t meant to be Vergil. 

Now that Dante thought about it, he had a feeling a certain bandaged shade from a painful past encounter might have been the doing of Mundus, also. 

And Gilver was proof that Mundus had no issues with reproducing Vergil’s (and, well, by extension, Dante’s) image. 

That begged the question: what’s up with the kid here on this island?

(Meanwhile, something felt like it was burning him from his pockets, but it wasn’t severe, so he let it be.)

In his moments of thinking, the child grabbed the Shadow’s core, but didn’t back up. “Why are you hurting Shadow? What did you do to papa?”

And from the balcony, the wards that apparently kept the angel-like devil trapped within that room flashed again, as the devil-woman pleaded: “Vitale! Come back!”

Startled out of his childish bluster, Vitale turned back to glance up at the balcony: “Mama!”

It was then that Dante realized several things, as the Shadow reformed quicker than he expected, only to gently lick the child’s face instead of attacking Dante again:

First, other than the words “mama” and “papa”, the child was speaking in Infernal. It was a blasted language that Dante didn’t ask to know, but it appeared devil’s blood meant innate understanding of the language even if he didn’t bother to learn how to speak it. 

Second, the angel-devil pleading for her child that was trapped in her room was not speaking Infernal. No, she was speaking English, had been the whole time, and she was likely the one that taught the child the words “mama” and “papa.”

Third, and the most obvious piece of information he should have realized sooner, was that the one the kid was referring to as “papa” must be the armored knight that Dante just fought. 

Now the question about this child became the validity of his parentage. Dante did feel some bit of devil on the kid, but it wasn’t a whole lot. Now he wondered, did he and Vergil ever feel “devil enough” when they were younger? Or was this kid possessed by something instead? Or maybe he was a hybrid, and hybrids have to grow into their devil’s blood?

Now more than ever, Dante wished he had family that could answer these questions. He wasn’t sure what this kid was, but his soft-hearted tendency made him decide very easily that kids should be with their parents. With their mother. 

“That your mom up there?” Dante asked while pointing at the balcony, though he couldn’t see anyone there through the flashing of the red wards. 

Sniffling, the boy whose name must be Vitale nodded. “Mama is not allowed to leave our room.”

So, the angel-devil was also a captive slave. 

Added with the words from Trish about putting an end to the Underworld, Dante wondered if perhaps this was truly going to become a coup. Was he really here to help liberate devils from a tyrant? Or was this still a trap?

But Dante was ever one to follow his heart, and not his head. “Here, kid. Let’s get you and kitty up to you mom, and then we’ll talk about your dad, okay?”

But Vitale was still wary of him, and shirked away when Dante reached out. “No! You hurt papa!”

And that was true. He did fight that armored knight. Not certain where he could go from there, it was the voice from the balcony that settled the issue:

“Vitale. Come back. Let him bring you back to me.”

Truth be told, the big cat could probably bring the kid back as easily as Dante could. But now that the mom has said the word, then Dante had a duty to do so. He picked up the kid, and was momentarily surprised when the Shadow disappeared as misty wisps attached to the kid. Peeking under Vitale’s shirt collar, he noticed strange black markings on the kid’s back. 

_Did this kid TAME a Shadow?_ Dante knew contract markings when he saw them. 

But now wasn’t the time to worry about that. With a few easy hikes up the walls, he kicked open the doors of the balcony to bring the kid back into the chambers. 

The “angel” wasn’t there. But as he looked over to the mirror, he saw that she was on the other side of the mirror, the same place the armored knight came from. So he set the child down in front of the mirror, and watched the kid run through the glass with a ripple, to be embraced in his apparent mother’s arms. 

The glass remained solid to Dante. 

It was such an odd scene. (The burning that seemed to burrow into his soul was starting to get irritating now, too.)

Glancing up through the mirror, the angel then said to Vitale: “You should thank him, Vitale.”

The kid gave Dante a wary look. “But he hurt papa.”

“Papa will be fine. He is strong. Gratitude should still be given where it is due. Perhaps you could give him something.” She handed the child a vial. 

Dante immediately understood what was happening here. She couldn’t leave, and she needed something to be handed over. Truely, couldn’t she have asked the child outright? But thinking about it, if she were a captive, then perhaps Mundus kept a close eye on her. Clearly, she was caged.

And Dante came to the conclusion that perhaps she was not trusted by Mundus. 

Vitale tentatively reached out through the mirror, sniffled, and said: “Thank you…”

It was definitely not a sincere thanks, but hey, Dante wasn’t going to expect too much from the kid. What he was worried about, however, was how he was going to proceed. What was the deal with the armored knight? And if he had to kill him, then what would that mean for the kid, and this caged angel?

He received the vial. It was a milky-pink liquid. Almost looked like it could taste like strawberry. He cocked an eyebrow at the two in the mirror. “No problem, but uh, am I supposed to drink this?”

“Is it not customary or sacred to give blood as the ultimate gift? Blood a source of power, after all.” The angel spoke.

The idea of drinking blood was something Dante did not enjoy, but he was already absorbing red orbs left and right in order to continue his quest. Why couldn’t this have just been red orbs? 

But he shouldn’t waste her gratitude; no, he knew it wasn’t “gratitude.” She wanted him to have this for a reason, and he was going to take the gamble of trusting her. 

“Then, bottoms up. Hope it tastes like strawberry.” Taking the glass stopper out of the vial, he drank down the small amount of milky pink liquid in one gulp. 

It did not taste like strawberry.

The mild sweetness was mixed with iron. Tasted more like metallic milk. 

He also wasn’t sure if it really did anything for him, though again, the nagging burning from earlier was making him feel sick.

“Definitely doesn’t taste like strawberry.” He quipped. 

The image from the mirror faded, but then a voice, different from the eerie one that had been giving him instructions on what is needed to proceed, sounded in his head:

_“I would hardly think that it would. Do not respond verbally. This connection is temporary. Well-met, Dante, Son of Sparda. I require your help. But before that, the longer you hold that powered Melancholy Soul, the longer it will continue to sap your strength. Go, quickly, and bring it to where it needs to go.”_

Through the years, Dante’s been through a lot of bullshit to jump at a measly voice in his head. Telepathy was the least startling thing to encounter, and he did as suggested, inwardly cursing to himself about not realizing he was holding an object that was burning him. 

Leaving the room and leaping three floors down to jam the stupid orb into the sealed door, however, was a simple enough task. As he caught his breath from being relieved of the infernal object, he took a moment to appraise the underground passage, and tested this “connection” that was forced upon him:

_“Alright, cool trick. What do you want from me, Angel?”_

_“I will not beat around the bush, Dante. My name is Seraphina Valkyrie, and I believe you will find great reason to hear me out and assist me. I will first tell you about the knight you just fought.”_

_“Yeah? Little Vitale’s dad, right? Is that actually the truth, or is that kid being lied to?”_

_“I am hurt that you would think so, but I understand why you should think so. It is the truth, Dante. Vitale is my son, with the knight that Mundus re-named as Nelo Angelo. He is not who you think he is, however. He is not himself. He is every bit a chess piece as I am.”_

_“Is that the case for Trish, too?”_ If he was going to hear anything out, he was going to make sure the story sounded straight. And the first thing to do, was to cross-reference it with what Trish told him.

_“Trish? Ah, the demon made in the image of your mother. So she finally has a name for herself, now…”_

Seraphina’s tone seemed pleased, and this was a point of interest for Dante. He didn’t interrupt her, however. 

_“Trish is a pawn, but whether or not she continues to be a willing pawn will be up to her. I have done what I could, to stroke the flame in her that may give her a heart and soul. The rest will be up to her.”_

This was curious. Now, Dante already pretty much took the job from Trish, so either way, he was going to do something about Mundus. And so he told her: _“You know I’m already on my way to deal with Mundus, right? Wouldn’t that free you and everyone else? Could just say you’re going to help me towards that instead of saying you need my help, so something’s up. What is it?”_

_“It’s true, if you defeat Mundus, then those of us that are left will be freed. But that is provided if he does not sacrifice all of his pawns before your blade, before you manage to confront him.”_

Dante clenched his fist. Yes, it was beginning to look like that would be the case. He had no doubt that this Demon King would do such a thing, and saw now why Seraphina wanted his help. _“You need me to free the kid’s dad? Why doesn’t he just deflect now that I’m here? I could use an extra sword.”_ That was partially a lie. Dante hasn’t worked alongside anyone else for big jobs like this in a very long time. Any job like this could be his last, and he’d be damned if he took anyone else to their grave with him.

_“Because he cannot. Not yet. Mundus controls him with the armor and a special poison, to keep him from acting out of line. I am trapped in this room as an extra incentive to keep him from misbehaving.”_

_“Okay, so, what? I need to peel that armor off of him?”_

_“The armor may need to come off last. First, is the poison. However, what Mundus does not know is that his poison is not working at its full potential. Neither have I been affected by his poison at all, but he is not nearly as invested in me as he is in his new General. He knows not my ability to create elixirs of many kinds, one such elixir being the one I just gave you.”_

Dante was still considering whether or not this entire story held stock. So far, he found nothing to criticize, save for the fact that it was odd that there was a devil-family here at all. This behaviour was too human…

But that’s just the thing, right? He can’t really say no, because these kinds of things only reminded him of his past. If he denied her, then he would be turning his back on the few years of happiness that his own parents had tried to grasp at, before everything went up in flames. 

_“You didn’t give me any sort of antidote, though.”_

_“I already did. It’s now in your blood.”_

What the fuck. _“How is that supposed to work?”_

Dry amusement could be felt through their connection. _“It’s not going to remain in your system forever, but it will remain long enough. In the time since Vitale’s birth, I have been slowly feeding Nelo Angelo my blood. In simple terms, half of the antidote has been permeating his system for years, and prior to your arrival, I gave him something a little different. I had the ability to free his soul and bring him to clarity ever since we had been captured. However, even if I did free him, us alone would not stand a chance against Mundus in order to escape.”_

He felt the sadness and regret in her, as she then told him: _“We failed once before. Should we fail the second attempt, we would not be so fortunate to live.”_

So it came down to that. 

And Dante couldn’t say no. Not when he was thinking about how upset Vitale was that Dante had hurt Nelo Angelo. 

_“Tell me what I need to do.”_

_“Nelo Angelo should slowly come to his senses over time. I’m afraid he still may be hostile towards you, but when you see signs of his consciousness surfacing, give him your blood. That last half of the antidote that is now within your system will trigger the rest of the elixir that I have fed him. I do not know if he would be in good shape, once the full antidote clears him of the poison and blocks off Mundus’ access to his armor, but once the guillotine is no longer over his neck, we will have a chance to proceed with more freedom.”_

There was still one other thing, however. But Dante also knew he needed to proceed, and started to wade through the water of the underground passageways so that he could make some progress. _“What about you, Angel? You’re still trapped.”_

_“I have full confidence that your continued progress will eventually lead you to the actual room that I reside in. You are stronger than I, and once you arrive here, I’m certain you can break the seals that keep me in.”_

_“Tall order, but I’ll see what I can do.”_

_“Saviour be with you, Dante. I will be watching, as this is the only help I can give.”_

Great, now he had a backseat driver. 

Something else nagged at him. _“What’s with this Saviour thing? You said it to me earlier, when I left the room the first time.”_

_“It’s funny to me that you ask. I grew up on an isolated little island city by the name of Fortuna. We are run by the Order of the Sword, and worshipped a being that we called The Saviour, who was said to have once ruled over Fortuna. And that Saviour, ironically, was the Legendary Dark Knight, Sparda.”_

There were several things to take away from this. First of all, Dante understood without a doubt now that Seraphina was human. Oh, he knew of the concept of humans turning into demons, so he chalked her up to be a witch of some sort. Maybe this Nelo Angelo was her patron devil or something. (He never knew if his mom actually had a contract with Sparda, but he knew that Eva was a witch.) 

_“You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s batshit insane.”_

_“If it’s any consolation, Dante, I was not a fervent worshipper, and found most of the drivel inane, too. But, I am not without their influence. I do not believe Sparda to be a god, but he is clearly still a higher being than I ever shall be. Your father’s name strikes both fear and hatred in the devils that actually babble at me, though I detect hints of forlorn respect from a few of the older devils. I will not presume the nature of your relationship with The Saviour, as that is not my business. But I shall ironically place my faith in you, Son of Sparda.”_

He huffed. _“If this tells you anything, I’m sick of cleaning up after my family’s mess.”_

_“...But will you do it, for your family, anyway?”_

The question struck a chord in his very soul, even though he felt certain that she wasn’t trying to make him upset on purpose. Memories of the day Vergil refused his help and fell down into Hell still haunted him. 

He should have grabbed on to the blade, or fell with him, no matter how much it was going to hurt him. 

He shouldn’t have let him go alone. 

Gritting his teeth, he told her before turning around to face the demons that were spawning after he found a key he needed for a door: _“Always, so long as that means I’ll never lose them again.”_

* * *

Seraphina at least made for a good conversation partner during moments when Dante felt frustrated with having to deal with the complicated and inane fetching of occult items in order to make it through the castle. He found out that Trish had been sneaking books to her for Vitale, but some of the material was about the seal to Hell on Mallet Island, which Sera had read.

Knowing that in order to proceed, he had to undo the seal to Hell on this island, made him annoyed. But he knew there would be no other way to confront Mundus otherwise, and at least this was going to happen on a remote island, instead of being through a tower that was under an actual residential district of Redgrave. 

He squashed Phantom, or more accurately, skewered the demon on the spear of a statue. Seraphina huffed in the back of his mind: _“Good riddance. He was never nice.”_

So he pressed on. When he encountered Griffon, he felt something from Seraphina, but she didn’t actually comment beyond giving him his name: _“Ah, Griffon…”_

The path to the Colosseum was obnoxious, and in between, Dante couldn’t find the opportunity to free Nelo Angelo when he encountered him the second time. ( _“He’s not ready… be careful, Dante… next time, I’m sure the time will be right next time.”_ ) 

The final fight with Griffon didn’t exactly go as he expected, as when the annoying demon was pinned down to the center of the arena, he heard Seraphina: _“Griffon, no…”_

Despite sending the odd feeling of care from Seraphina, Dante could tell that Griffon wasn’t backing down. He tried to dissuade him, however…

They were useless words, as he watched Mundus tear the bird to pieces, and used him as a sacrifice. 

The fury that was beginning to boil in his blood was hot and true as he told Trish of exactly what was on his mind. He cared little of how she expressed little sympathy and left with a bolt of lightning. He only hoped that, in the end, he'd at least be able to bring Seraphina her supposed mate back to her in one piece, seeing first hand now what Mundus does to those that fail him. 

_“Dante, wait. Griffon’s feathers, are there any of them left? If there are any remnants of him…”_

Sighing, he supposed he’ll do her this favor. Looking around, he gathered what remnants he could of the bird-demon, and even found a piece of his beak that had a considerable amount of power left. He knew that demon parts and even souls could be used to create weapons of considerable strength, and thought maybe Sera would like a memento of what might have been a friend. 

Still, he couldn’t linger long to find more remnants of the mouthy overgrown chicken, and eventually continued on his way…

Until he encountered Nelo Angelo for the third time.

Something needled at the back of his mind as he brandished his weapon against the knight, who had shorn his helmet. And this time, the feeling wasn’t coming from Seraphina. 

Knowing what he had to do, he took a moment to appraise the armored knight, and was nearly distracted from the fight as he took notice of features he otherwise would not have looked too hard at when focusing on the fight:

White hair. A familiar face. (Vitale didn’t get his hair colour solely from the white-feather-haired angel, it seemed…)

_The blue blades that came at him in full force._

It couldn’t be. 

No, but it could!

Dante’s heart pounded in his chest. It had to be! He didn’t dare to doubt this time. He made a promise, in his heart: _Next time was going to be different. Next time was going to be DIFFERENT._

_He will NOT let his brother go, again!_

“VERGIL!” He called out, with equal amounts of fury and hope, and parried the greatsword with a purpose in mind. 

This had to be the moment, and probably his last chance. If he didn’t free him from Mundus’ grasp now, then he might meet the same fate as Griffon. 

And Dante was not ready to bring back pieces of his brother’s corpse. 

Feral energy backed up his desperation as he triggered, and he clawed open a wound in his own forearm. Tackling Nelo Angelo, no, Vergil, to the ground, he held him down with all the force he could muster, and forced his bleeding arm upon the fangs and teeth of his enslaved twin. 

Dante struggled to hold on to his trigger for as long as he could, but eventually, his strength ran out, and Vergil unseated him to toss him aside. Hitting the floor and rolling into a pillar, Dante coughed, and worked to get back up before he found himself skewered. 

Only, the next attack didn’t come. Instead, he heard an agonized scream, as lightning and icor oozed off of his brother. The armor was actually melting off, and Vergil coughed in agony, and then retched even more of the icor out onto the floor before him. 

“Is that supposed to happen?” Dante asked out loud. 

_“Purging years worth of toxin from your body and soul can be… trying.”_ Was all Sera said, though he could feel her concern. 

Scrambling towards him, Dante helped brace Vergil from falling over again. With the entire armor off, his twin was now completed unclothed, but that was the least of anyone’s worries. “Vergil? Verge? Bro, are you alright? Dude, come on, you won’t die from something like that, would you?”

But before he could get a response, the unnatural storm that was Mundus approached, and the three glowing eyes shone above them:

“YOU DARE? DANTE!” Mundus yelled. “SO YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE WHAT IS MINE?”

Anger flared in Dante’s chest. “Vergil doesn’t belong to you, asshole!” Despite how pointless it was, Dante pointed Ivory at the three lights above them “You just sit on your throne and wait, mister Demon King. When I get down there, I’m going to make you pay tenfold! For taking my mom, and for what you did to Vergil, you hear me? Oh, and for good measure, I’ll give you an extra beating for Griffon, too!”

“SON OF SPARDA, YOU WILL REGRET HAVING BEEN BORN. FINE. COME. I WILL RECEIVE YOU WITH FANFARE, AND ONCE I HAVE YOU UNDER MY HEEL, YOU AND YOUR BROTHER WILL SERVE ME FOR THE REST OF ETERNITY!”

The storm receded, but Dante’s heart was still pounding. Vergil had collapsed into his arms, unconscious, and still very much naked, save for the familiar golden pendant around his neck.

He did the very human thing of checking for a pulse, and found with relief that his brother was still alive. But among this relief, he also had a million questions. 

_“This is my brother… Of the one in a million chance…”_ He told Seraphina. _“Did you know this? Is this why you asked for my help? Did he tell you about me? Wait, no...”_ He couldn’t help but bitterly laugh out loud. _“He couldn’t have mentioned me. He hates me…”_

 _“I cannot presume to know his feelings about you, Dante, though it saddens me you would say that. He was always private, but after being captured, I have not heard his voice since. But I have no time to explain to you what happened. Dante, you must move!”_ There was an urgency in her tone now. _“It will not take long before Mundus realizes I sabotaged everything he had been building. Please, bring Vergil to me, and break the wards that bind me.”_

That’s right. He needed to get her out of her prison, along with her son. 

And that was when his brain started to catch up with him:

Nelo Angelo was _Vergil._

Vergil is Vitale’s _father._

This means Vitale is Dante’s _nephew._

Never in a million years did Dante think there would actually be a new addition to the family. The only thing that ever seemed to happen to his family was tragedy. 

But this? This was a ray of hope.

Glancing down, he noticed the pendant on Vergil’s neck, and recalled how years ago, the two halves of their amulet was used to awaken the true power of the Force Edge. 

Vergil was still out cold, and underdressed. 

Gently, Dante undid the clasp to the amulet. 

“Hey bro, just going to borrow this for a moment. I’ll take a page from your book today, and say that I’m going to need this power if I’m going to be able to get you and your family out of here alive.”

* * *

With the Force Edge transformed into the Devil Sword Sparda, Dante lugged Vergil’s form over his shoulder and moved as quickly as he could. By the time he made it in front of the painting that looked like it was going to take him underwater, he first cursed under his breath.

There was no way he was going to make it further while his brother was deadweight. 

But, speak of the devil. Vergil made a noise, and Dante noticed that the first thing his twin did was reach towards his own neck. 

“Where… my…?”

“Hey, Verge? You feeling okay?”

Immediately, Dante was pushed aside. Not wanting to spook his brother any further, Dante held up his hands in a placating gesture and tried to sooth him: “Hey, hey, it’s just me. Calm down. It took some effort to get all of the gunk off of you and out of you, but you should be yourself now, right? Verge?”

“Dante…” Vergil finally seemed to recognize him, but Dante recognized that tone. It was Vergil’s immediate “I’m not happy to see you, little brother” tone. 

In a flash of blue, Vergil at least managed enough power to form new clothes about himself, his signature style impeccable as always, and took his stance to draw his sword. Except... 

He grabbed at nothing. “The Yamato!” Staring up in almost a panic, he first asked: “What have you done with-- Ugh…” 

Clearly, he was stressed, and seemed to have a headache over trying to figure things out. “How did you…” Vergil started to ask, and finally, Dante had some answers to provide:

“Your, uh, guardian angel gave me some sort of antidote. Said she’d been feeding you something for years now, and all it took was that last bit to actually free you, but no other time had been safe. Do you maybe… remember anything, from the entire time Mundus had you under his control?”

“DO NOT SAY THAT NAME!” The reaction from Vergil was pointed and full of anger, and Dante was almost startled. Except, he could understand where that anger stemmed from. And his twin continued: “Our father’s enemy, do not so carelessly bring him up. I have failed, Dante. _Failed._ I was not strong enough to get revenge on the demon who attacked our home, not strong enough to defeat him as father once did. And he humiliated me. Made me into that _thing_ and…” 

Vergil was borderline getting into hysterics, and it broke Dante’s heart to hear this. He reached forward, feeling that what he really needed to do was to give his brother a hug. But years of bad blood instinctively made him think twice, because Vergil had never liked being touched. 

That was when Seraphina interrupted them, and Dante realized, after sharing the antidote that was held in his blood, Vergil was now also part of this temporary connection that she had created:

_“V… Vergil. The heart bleeds, and that which bleeds may be mortal, but can also heal. But the danger is not past yet, and you still have a chance. WE still have a chance to pay Mundus back tenfold for what he has done to you, to us all. Come back to me. Come back, please. Come back…”_

Her melancholy tone was like a spell, and Dante watched as Vergil forcefully collected himself. Though a hand was still upon his face, Dante couldn’t blame his twin if he actually had a headache from everything that he went through, and everything that had transpired. His gaze seemed to scan at nothing, but Dante was willing to bet that Vergil was trying to remember what had happened in the time that he had missed. 

“Sera. Sera was down here in Hell. I remember, now. A few things. I almost felt like I have been in a long dream, sometimes a nightmare, other times just a sluggish dream. I can’t tell anymore if any of them were truly dreams, or if everything really transpired.” 

Before Dante could really offer any help on the matter, however, he watched as Vergil slipped on an impassive face, and straightened to run his hand back through his hair. The cold tone was both familiar and chilling: “I will have to get my answers later, it seems. She is right. Now that I’m free, I have the chance to put an end to Mundus once and for all--”

 _“Not when your sword has been broken and confiscated by the Emperor himself!”_ Sera’s voice now sounded harsh, and even Dante flinched. _“Saviour help me, Vergil. I will not let you rush in again, even more ill-equipped than the last time. Time is of essence. I cannot guarantee how much longer Vitale and I will remain safe…”_

At the mention of Vitale, Vergil’s breath hitched, and Dante couldn’t even begin to read exactly what was going on through his brother’s mind as he found his arm suddenly pulled forward by his older brother, towards the painting that was going to lead them underwater. 

“You tried to save me once, when I did not deserve it, Seraphina. I will not squander your kindness anymore, and I owe you more than I could ever give, as my debt grows with every passing failure.” 

“Wait, Verge, where--”

“You’ve made a wreck out of this place, Dante, not that I expected any less. Stop dawdling.”

The both plunged into the water, and without the means to protest or communicate, Dante could only keep his thoughts to himself as he followed Vergil through the flooded chambers. At first, he had pulled out the needle gun to deal with the enemies they encountered, but Vergil beat him to two of the three enemies with his summoned swords. 

Leaving the water that was magically being kept from flooding the exit, Dante told him immediately: “Well, that’s convenient, you haven’t lost your touch at all. Hey, wait!” He pulled at his brother’s back collar to keep him from storming through the door. “You’re not going to continue without a weapon, are you? You went three rounds against me already and this place is still teeming with demons. Here.” 

Dante grabbed the Devil Sword Sparda, and handed it over. “Here, the thing we fought over on our last reunion. I changed my mind. You can have it.”

Vergil stared down at it for a long while, before finally receiving it from him. Dante expected him to retort with something, about how it was his right or anything along those lines. But instead, Vergil whispered: “And for all the good my pursuit has done for me, when all I’ve done was repeat our father’s own mistakes.”

And again, leaving Dante no room to ask questions, especially when time was ticking, Vergil moved on forward through the door. 

It took the older twin considerably less time to understand what he had to do, in order to proceed. He activated mechanisms with efficiency, nabbed items of interest that he knew were needed, and all Dante could do was follow. 

He was concerned, when he noticed that the door that should be leading to the room he first saw Seraphina and Vitale through the mirror it held was gone. But Vergil did not seem too concerned as he led Dante outside, and dropped the egg-shaped object into the roaring blue flames. 

That was when Nightmare came back again. 

“Damn it, not this goop again!” Dante cursed. 

“Less talk, more dismantling.” Was all Vergil said, as he punched a mechanism that lit up the area with forceful anger. 

Vergil was getting impatient. 

Dante could tell, for all that his older twin tried to put on airs of being collected, Vergil was actually the most impatient person ever, and actually the easiest to anger. Oh, Vergil will try to endure, but his fuse was obvious, even when he stifled it to the best of his ability. 

And ironically, Dante, though energetic since they were children, had more heart and patience to deal with bullshit. 

Nightmare eventually ran away again, but the fight took considerably less time and energy, with a second fighter by his side. 

And a flare of _happiness_ warmed Dante’s heart. 

Could he have more of this? Fighting alongside Vergil, instead of against him?

The rest of the journey through more teleportation was silent. And Dante’s anxiety grew with his anticipation as they finally found themselves in front of the painting to a familiar bedroom.

The painting felt different this time, and Vergil did not hesitate to enter it and immediately go through the mirror. Dante followed quickly, and the moment he emerged, he heard Vergil demand: “Move!”

With a flurry of feathers, Dante caught sight of Seraphina grabbing Vitale and moving back from the balcony’s double doors, right as Vergil took the Devil Sword Sparda and swung down. 

The red seal that had been keeping Seraphina trapped shattered, and runes in the walls, floor, and ceiling of the room flared and burned away. 

“He will no longer threaten your safety with those chains now.” Was all Vergil said in a glance back at them, and immediately opened the balcony doors to go outside towards the courtyard. 

“Wait, Verge! Ugh!” Feeling that maybe he ought to say _something_ here, Dante turned to Seraphina and Vitale: “Sorry, I guess he’s really pissed right now. That was pretty lame for a reunion, all things considered.”

But his easy-going attitude dissipated as he noticed how Vitale’s eyes were red, as if the kid had been crying. The child hiccuped, and asked softly: “That’s papa?”

Dante’s anxiety went into overdrive. “Yeah, hey, don’t… it’s okay, I know he’s being all prissy and everything right now, and he looks a heck of a lot different--”

Vitale sniffled, and interrupted him: “Papa is upset? Is he upset at the mean Emperor that wouldn’t help Griffon?”

His brain hit the brakes, as he realized Vitale wasn’t crying about Vergil at the moment. Or maybe he was, but had different priorities. 

“Uh, yeah. You could say that. The big mean Emperor Mundus? He’s the one that trapped your mom and dad here. He’s not very nice, is he? And your dad has a bone to pick with him. Heck, that’s why I’m here in the first place. To kick Mundus’ ugly ass.”

Seraphina gently rubbed Vitale’s back, as the kid nodded, but clearly still sad. That was when Dante remembered: “Here, I’m sorry Mundus killed your friend. This is probably a bit macabre but uh… I brought back some of his feathers and stuff, for a memento, if you’d like.”

As he held them out, Vitale’s eyes grew wide. Dante was going to give the kid time to come to terms with what these items meant, but what happened next was beyond his wildest predictions:

As Vitale hugged the feathers and the piece of Griffon’s beak close, power surged from the child’s body, and an inky ichor came forth to envelope the items. Before he knew it, it sounded like something shattered, and then a bird flew from the boy’s arms:

“WHOO! I’m free! I’m free!” 

Looking up, Dante saw a black and blue bird, clearly a smaller and weaker Griffon, circling over their heads. 

And he heard Sera inhale and say: “This wasn’t what I was expecting. First Shadow, and now the parrot…”

“Hey, who are you calling parrot! But I’ll let that slide, because colour my tailfeathers surprised, your little hatchling is full of surprises! So I owe you both one! Oh, wait, wait, I need to go do something.” 

Griffon circled once more and then flew out the open balcony doors. Concerned, Dante chased after the bird, and glanced down to see Vergil fighting a pack of Nobodies. 

From above, Griffon found a good perch to land on and squawked: “Hey, Nelo! Well, I guess you’re back to your old self now, huh, Vergil? Listen up here! Your old man really made a mess out of things for us, but if I ever had to pick again whose side I’m on, I’d rather die than to work for the thankless bastard on the throne again! If it’s anything Sparda got right, it was that old Mundus is going senile! Hah, a devil going senile… Unheard of!”

A blue sword flew towards Griffon, and the bird squawked again as he took flight to avoid being skewered. 

“You are still as obnoxious as ever, pest! You have no blessings to count now that I’m in full control of my facilities again, and if you insist on wasting my time, I will not miss next time!” Vergil bit back as he then swung the Sparda sword at one of the Nobodies. 

Dante, meanwhile, had his own worries about how Vergil was going to hold up, and cursed. Before he jumped down, however, Sera shouted for his attention: “Wait, use this!” And tossed an oddly shaped weapon at him. “Shadow found this, though it became inert within the wards.” 

Wasting no time, he took the Nightmare β and jumped down to help. Above, Griffon circled again and continued: “You’re just as moody as you were even when you couldn’t talk! Look, your kid there just offered me a bloody _pact_ of all things. You want to know what the stupid conditions are? To be his _friend._ And hoo boy, you’re lucky I like the little poet, so I’m only going to tell you this once: WIN, Vergil; Dante. Avenge me! And we’ll call it even. I’ll help protect the little tyke with the kitty, if it means I’ll never have to fear a tyrant holding a guillotine over my head again!”

With those words, Griffon flew back into the room. Dante couldn’t help but feel impressed. He glanced over to see Vergil scowl, and so he grinned at his older twin in return. “Nice friends you made down here.”

“He’s not a friend.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, bro.”

With efficiency that Dante wouldn’t have been able to achieve alone, the two of them finished off the Nobodies, and this time, Dante swiped the Philosopher's Stone before Vergil could nab it, just out of sheer competitive spite. Yet Vergil just scoffed and let Dante have his way, and climbed back up to the balcony. 

The two of them entered and were greeted with a slightly different sight than when they had left the bedroom. 

Vitale was standing by his mother, curiously with tattoos on his arms now. Shadow was by his side like a support animal, and Griffon perched on Shadow’s back, uncharacteristally silent. 

Seraphina was no longer angel-like. During the time Dante and Vergil had been fighting Nobodies, she had changed her entire form: her eye-laden wings retracted, her hair now golden blonde instead of white downy feathers. Her entire being was now utterly human, with the sharp gaze of a warrior, and a proud bearing in the way she stood. The clothes she had on were white with gold trim, practical and good for fighting in. And the gauntlets upon her arms were no normal weapons: Dante recognized them to be Devil Arms. 

Seraphina Valkyrie was no witch. Dante could only recognize her as a warrior: A huntress. 

And now he also knew where Vitale got his green eyes from. 

“Hey there, Angel. Guess you got a moment to freshen up?” Dante joked. 

An amused smile graced her lips. “Not for you, of course.”

 _Oof._ Dante winced, but he had to admit, it was a proper rebuttal. He glanced over at Vergil, and noticed that his brother was gazing down at Vitale instead. 

The older Son of Sparda took a step forward, and knelt down just two paces away from the child to be at eye level with him, and asked in Infernal: “You are Vitale?”

The kid nodded nervously, and clutched his book closer to his chest. Vergil’s gaze drifted to the book, and then stated: “It appears you have my book, from my childhood.”

Nodding just a bit again, Vitale whispered: “Mama said it used to belong to papa. To you.”

“...Do you like it?” He asked softly. 

“I like it most when mama reads it to me.” 

There was a beat of silence, before Vergil reached out towards the child and picked him up. If Vitale were startled, the child didn’t show much of it as he glanced over at his mother once Vergil was standing again. 

“I thought you were just a dream, my Lioness.” He said to Seraphina. “You, and this child, both.”

“If it felt like a dream, it was because I was doing my best to protect your sanity, Vergil.” She reached out with her gauntlet-clad hands, and one hand gently patted her son’s head, while the other only tugged at the collar of Vergil’s coat to straighten it. 

Vergil looked thoughtful, before speaking, no, reciting, in a manner Dante thought he’d never hear again, since the day the fire had consumed their childhood home:

"Once a dream did weave a shade  
O'er my angel-guarded bed,  
That an emmet lost its way  
Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,  
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,  
Over many a tangle spray,  
All heart-broke, I heard her say…”

Seraphina smiled, and opened her arms in a gesture to continue the recitation where he left off:

"Oh my children! do they cry,  
Do they hear their father sigh?  
Now they look abroad to see,  
Now return and weep for me.”

Dante did everything he could to resist groaning, seeing as this was supposed to be some sort of intimate moment. 

And Vitale twisted in Vergil’s arms, in order to glance up at him: “That’s from the book. Can papa read to me, too? Now that you have a voice?”

Uncertainty was etched momentarily over his features, but Vergil promised anyway: “I shall. When we are all safe. When you can be free to do more than read, but also play.”

“I like reading. But Shadow likes to play. So playing will be nice, too.”

Finally, Dante cut in: “Awe, you’re just like Vergil when he was a kid. Always a bookworm. Wouldn’t even play with me when he wanted to read. I was such a neglected little brother.”

“You were not neglected, Dante. Don’t make up stories. You were a nuisance.”

Shaking her head, Sera laughed and reached out to ask for Vitale back, freeing Vergil’s hands. And that was when Vergil asked: “Sera, this child… what of the other one?”

Dante really thought he couldn’t be any more surprised today, as his eyes widened and he glanced between the two of them in shock. 

Sera was visibly sad when she responded: “I don’t know. We won’t know if our firstborn survived until we find our way back to Fortuna.”

And Vitale’s eyes seemed to brighten as he asked his mother in Infernal: “Do I have a sibling?”

“...Maybe. We will have to see if we can find them when we escape.” Sera seemed hesitant to give her child hope. 

Sucking in a breath, Dante fought every urge to utter _holy shit_. Was he hearing things correctly? Vitale was the _second_ kid? Vergil _already_ had a kid before this one and that kid was still in the human world?

There was still a lot more to unpack from this, but Dante wasn’t given the luxury of making more sense of it. 

Griffon, finally tired of remaining silent, piped up: “Okay now, enough with the sappy reunion. Clearly you two got history, but we’re running out of time. We can’t leave the island until Mundus gets beaten up. And to do that, we have to open the gates of Hell and get down to where he’s at.”

Vergil looked like he had a lot more to say, but ended up tearing his gaze away from Sera and Vitale, a rare found guilt in his expression that Dante never thought he’d see on his brother’s face. 

Again, Dante found no room to argue or get a word in, as Seraphina shifted her hold on her child in order to step forward while saying softly: “We have a lot we need to talk about, but Griffon is right. Now isn’t the time. We will have all the time we need to sort things out, once the entire family is safe.”

And as she leaned forward to give him a surprising kiss of reassurance, Dante was certain in this moment that his twin felt the same twinge of emotional sting at the words of “family” and “safe.”

Dante didn’t come to Mallet island thinking he’d get anything more than revenge. 

He didn’t think he was going to find hope buried under his years of regret and pain over the loss of his family.

He dared to hold on to the hope now. Dared to believe that he will have his brother back, and more. 

Determination was set in his heart. 

Mundus will pay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The implications made here is that Griffon was under a contract with Mundus, which was why Mundus had direct means to fry him. Now that he’s been freed, Mundus can’t do anything to him unless Griffon goes back into hell to confront Mundus at his throne, face-to-face.  
> \- Meanwhile, Mundus thought that by creating Trish, he didn’t need a binding contract to hold power over her.  
> \- I replayed the entirety of DMC1 in order to achieve this chapter. It was tough!  
> \- The poem, of course, is William Blake. An excerpt of “A Dream.”


	3. Fool’s Mate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mundus’ poor decisions over time finally becomes his downfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Note: Fool’s Mate is a Checkmate Pattern in chess, where checkmate happens in two moves (or three if you are playing white side) with the condition that your opponent plays poorly.  
> \- Warning: brief mention of a grave injury, but no detailed description of gore. Just “there was a wound” and “lots of blood was involved.”  
> \- This is probably expected, but the final fight scene is not going to follow the game to a T. In fact, imagine by this point both the twins end up with Devil Triggers close to their 4SE looks, and the draconic look is a marking of their Sin Devil Triggers they will someday have.

Vergil felt fatigued, but could not let it show. And that was for several reasons. 

He refuses to show weakness in front of Dante, and it is unwise to show signs of weakness while in enemy territory. 

Beyond that, was an illogical fear of showing weakness in front of the rest of his present company:

He could not show weakness in front of the woman who endured years in a prison, who bided her time, to find the opportunity to save him. 

She had become wrapped up in his failure, and he could not fail her again. 

She didn’t deserve any of this, yet she was now entwined with his fate. Furthermore, she boldly did not let go, and she bore another child _(with him…)_ during captivity, and kept that child as safe as she could. 

These memories that felt like dreams had returned to him through hazy recollections, and made his heart ache in a way that he despised. Yet at the same time, something about his circumstances made this ache different from the times of the past, when he had despaired over how weak he was, when he lost everything, when he had longed for love that he felt like he didn’t have. 

Love and protection... 

He remembered through vague moments, as Nelo Angelo, when Blanco Serafino had aided him. Tended to the hurt from Mundus’ torture. Read to him, recited to him, gave him respite when Mundus allowed him reprieve. 

He also remembered with mild creeping horror that, in not being in full control of himself, he had become persistent in certain instances for physical comforts from her. 

Was it shame that was seeping through his being, knowing that he had fallen to base desires? To have gone so far as to bother Seraphina and demand such physical sacrifice…

He loathed for when the time would come where he ought to address that matter with her, along with the other long list of answers she had the right to, and issues they would need to… reconcile. 

He knew her for all of one month when he was himself. 

How could he be deserving of anything further from her, with only one month of history? He already did not deserve her care during the years where he was but a shade of himself. 

And he saddled her with two children that she did not ask for. 

_How pathetic could he be, seeing all the mistakes he had made?_

This he pondered in between waking up with Dante’s hold to support him, and the journey he made to the room that Sera had been trapped in. 

And as Griffon reminded them of the task at hand, Vergil knew he had to get a grip on reality, and convict himself to _something_ in order to keep his focus. 

Though he still desired power, he had to finally face the reality that Sera had blindsided him with before they were captured by Mundus. In fact, that reality was now twofold:

He can no longer hide from the fact that there is possibly a child still in Fortuna, who likely has not known the fate of their mother since birth. He can no longer ignore it, now that he had Vitale. 

He recalls now that Sera and the other demons around them had affectionately called the child V. 

He knew that Sera chose the name on purpose, to call to the memory of the month he spent with her, having never disclosed his true name. 

Vitale also stood for life. “Vitality.”

Though Vergil had been nearby both mother and child, as Nelo Angelo, he was never truly _there_ , was he? He brought them the only sustenance the Underworld had, but very little else. Protection, perhaps. But arguably, Sera gave V the most love and protection. 

He almost felt like he ought to be jealous of the child, only to look upon V’s form and be reminded of his own past. 

And he silently resolved to himself: Though he failed in doing what Sparda once did, in losing to Mundus instead of cutting the tyrant down, he must now do what his father had failed to do for him, his mother, and even his brother. 

Vergil cannot let Seraphina and Vitale meet the same end that Eva did. 

Gripping the Devil Sword Sparda tighter, he began to formulate a list of priorities. 

  1. Do not separate. And he loathed to admit, but this meant he needed to remain within Dante’s vicinity, too. 
  2. Retrieve Yamato. He recalled that she had broken, but that was no matter. He _must_ have her back. 
  3. V’s and Sera’s safety must be prioritized over everything else. If all else fails, so long as he finds even a shard of the Yamato, then at the very least, V and Sera must be sent to Fortuna. He will have to trust that Griffon and Shadow will take care of them, no matter how little he wished to rely on others. 
  4. Dante was not on his list of priorities, and he rationalized to himself that his little brother has proven to be able to take care of himself. Besides, Vergil will allow his brother a piece of the action in getting revenge against Mundus. It was only right, as both brothers were wronged by him. 



Silently satisfied with his line of thought, he allowed Dante to answer to Griffon’s call-to-action, and followed the younger twin through the mirror as they began to do some back-tracking. 

V clung to his mother’s shoulders, glancing around in concern. Griffon picked up on it:

“Heh, haven’t really been far from your room before, haven’t you? Island’s in shambles, and the weather usually isn’t this bad. You always wanted to see the human world, didn’t you? Well, this aint the best part of it, yet, little poet.” 

Remembering that Griffon was an absolute chatterbox was already giving Vergil a headache, but on some levels, he appreciated that the bird was garnering the child’s attention. He feared having to hold a conversation with his son so soon. (Again, the truth that he has a son was a hard reality to swallow. He wasn’t certain if he’ll be able to face the older child any better, should they find them.)

“Are we leaving to go visit where [people] live?” V asked, though the term for “people” used in Infernal was “humans.” 

Sera answered: “It is our real home, V. We will live there, and you can experience the things you’ve read from your books, and the things heard from Griffon. Though, Griffon, I will have to ask you to speak less in Infernal. V must get into the habit of speaking English.”

Birds can’t really roll their eyes, but the way Griffon shrugged denoted his response. Still, no longer speaking in Infernal, he said: “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

It hadn’t occurred to Vergil that language might become a problem for the child, and this made him glance over again. V caught his gaze this time, and then…

He smiled at Vergil. 

Despite the severity of the situation they were in, V was beaming in some form of happiness. Vergil’s throat felt dry, staring and unsure of how to react, until he realized that V was likely so used to Nelo Angelo being silent, that the motion of visual regard was likely all he recognized as a form of interaction from Vergil. 

Even Vergil had better, deeper, and more vivid memories of his father, when he was near V’s age. 

And among those sparse memories, Vergil realized that he had very little to truly offer to his son, or even anyone else. 

No, that wasn’t true. 

_Protection._

_But without power, you cannot protect anything._

Vergil forced himself to give V a slight nod of acknowledgement, and tore his gaze away. 

And on the topic of power, he noticed something:

“Dante, where is the sword father gave you?”

“What, the Rebellion? Didn’t bring it.”

“You brought father's Force Edge without access to the Perfect Amulet to fight the Demon King that our father sealed away, and not your Rebellion?”

“Thought it was more poetic justice to use that blade. Thought you might like that.”

 _Except you didn’t even know I would be here._ He thought. But then, he realized that his brother was inferring that he was thinking of him. 

That he wasn’t doing this just for their mother. 

They came up to the puddle of dark powers in the twisted cathedral. Dante peered down into, and then glanced back at Sera and V. 

“So, guess this is where the gate entrance is or something. Think you guys should wait here--”

“Unwise.” Vergil interrupted. “If we do not defeat Mundus, no one can leave. If we go down and fail, the end result is the same: we all perish. Splitting up accomplishes nothing.” 

V seemed to pick up the severity of his tone, and huddled closer into Sera’s chest. “Is it dangerous?” He asked, a little frightened. 

And Sera soothed him: “It will be. But we will be together.” 

Griffon cackled: “Don’t you worry there, little poet. Mommy will protect you, I’m sure, just like she always has. Besides, you have the almighty Griffon here! Look, I got a pact going on with you now. If you die, I die. And I probably won’t be lucky enough to get a third chance at revival. So it’s in my best interests to keep you alive, kiddo.”

Dante tsked, examined the pool again, and said: “Well, guess that’s settled then. Better get this over with.” With a grin, he stepped back just a bit, and then leapt forward with a goofy grin: “Cannonball!”

The puddle, being magic, did not splash. It only rippled as Dante ominously slipped through it. 

Vergil heard Sera laugh. “He is… quite carefree, compared to you.”

He didn’t know how to respond, and only knelt down to glance through the pool. It was a reflection of the cathedral ceiling, or a paradox of it. He could see Dante standing upon said ceiling and beckoning. 

“You go in ahead of me. I will bring up the rear.” Was all he said in response. 

“I appreciate it.”

Ever pragmatic, Sera’s background as a Holy Knight showed through. Griffon disappeared into V’s markings again, and Sera’ unfurled the wings of her ill-begotten devil form before slipping through the puddle. 

As promised, Vergil followed. They arrived to find Dante already standing over the mechanism to take down the forcefield to the gate, the Philosopher’s Stone in hand. 

“Well, this is it. Glad there’s a lot less blood and fighting involved this time.” Dante cocked a grin at the older twin. “And maybe a lot less goop monsters.”

Irked at the callback to everything that had gone wrong at the Temen-ni-Gru, Vergil simply demanded: “Make haste, Dante.”

“Alright, alright.” 

And so, they descended into the swirling hellgate in the sky. 

* * *

Vergil and Dante each clearly had very different reactions towards seeing Trish. 

Vergil, of course, was not happy to see her, and pushed away his distress with mounting anger at the utter blasphemy she was to Eva’s memory. 

Yet he was prevented from acting from two things. The first thing was the concerned shout from V: “Eva!”

And the second, was that Dante called out Trish’s name and immediately bolted forward, only to activate the trap that was Nightmare’s containment wards. 

“Damn it. Everyone, stay back. And here I thought we weren’t going to be dealing with any more goop-monsters!”

While Dante dealt with the Nightmare, Vergil knew exactly how they came to be in this predicament. He drew the Devil Sword Sparda and immediately sprinted forward, slamming Trish into the ground before she could rise, and held the blade at her neck. 

“Vergil, wait!” Sera’s voice was what stopped him from killing her outright, but he still voiced his ultimatum: 

“Give me one reason to not end you right here, for baiting us into Mundus’ trap, _fiend._ ”

Trish’s breathing was heavy, and for a moment, the fear that flashed in her eyes made Vergil think: _Is this what mother looked like, when she realized she was about to die?_

And behind him, V whimpered squirmed out of his mother’s arms, dropping to the ground to run towards them: “Papa! Eva!” But he stopped a few paces away, and asked with the broken expression of a child who thinks he’s been lied to: “Is Eva on the big meanie’s side?”

Vergil wanted to snarl at the child, and correct him, that this was not Eva. That this devil will never be Eva. 

But it was Trish, who answered with a hitch in her breath: “It’s Trish. My name isn’t Eva. It… it never truly was. I’m sorry, little one…”

The feeling of his own heartbeat became heavier and faster, as memories of all the false smiles Trish had put on for V surfaced. Smiles that she imitated from when Eva had once looked at him and Dante the same way. 

He hated it. He wanted to end her right there. 

But would this console the child who was lied to? Would V truly understand what had happened?

Panicked, and not knowing what to do, he almost felt sick. And then Sera’s voice cut clear through everything, and said: “You have made your decision then, Trish?”

The imitation of Eva laughed bitterly. “Decision? What decision is there to make, _Seraphina_? I never had any choice. I understand what you were saying now. But a tool will always be a tool, until the day it breaks, right?”

“But people are not tools, Trish. And you have made decisions before. You decided to bring V his books. You decided to dust off that chess board and learn to play chess with him. You decided to visit even when Nelo Angelo wasn’t present for you to continue the act that Mundus put you through. You are not bound by oath, Trish. You are only bound by fear. And fear can be conquered.”

Sera eventually came to kneel on Trish’s other side, and then glanced up to make eye-contact with Vergil. 

V stepped forward slowly, and asked softly: “Eva’s name isn’t Eva? Eva is Trish? And Trish doesn’t want to help meanie Mundus, right?” The last question was a clear plea from a child who saw companionship in the devil-woman. “We’re going to leave this place. Trish can leave with us, right?”

“I…” Trish hesitatingly formulated words, but wasn’t able to give an answer, for at that very moment, the blue barrier shattered, and Dante shouted:

“Watch out!”

He had beaten Nightmare, but as the wards of containment faded, in its last ditch effort, the bioweapon lunged towards all of them. 

Vergil knew he could have trick-teleported away. But as he turned to see Sera reach out and grab V in order to shield him with her wings and body, his mind stalled. 

_Love and Protection._

He didn’t react fast enough. 

Dante couldn’t catch up fast enough. 

Griffon and Shadow weren't manifesting fast enough. 

And all of them became engulfed in darkness. 

* * *

Vergil first found himself face to face with Nelo Angelo. 

His grip on the Devil Sword Sparda felt numb. His fingers were icy cold. 

Nelo Angelo readied his sword against him, and suddenly, Vergil felt like he must have blanked out, for in the next moment, the pale imitation was in his face, and swung down. 

Barely blocking, Vergil was flung back. 

_Could he truly face this pathetic past of his? A past that was his very humiliation?_

But then, he heard a scream. 

_Seraphina’s scream._

Not the banshee’s wail that came from Blanco Serafino, but an actual cry of distress. 

Memories of fire and darkness and pain engulfed him. 

But this time, instead of despair, he felt rage. 

“Begone from my presence, you wretched shade!” He shouted, and with a dash and a heavy swing forward, he cleaved Nelo Angelo in two. 

Normally, after a kill, he had a ritual of satisfaction where he would sheathe the Yamato. But the Devil Sword Sparda was not a weapon that afforded him that, and he could care less of what became of the shade. 

He sprinted forward into the darkness, knowing and yet not knowing where he was heading, only that he was following the sound of Sera’s second scream. 

Suddenly, he found himself standing in a familiar bedroom. One that he could not easily forget, because this was _her_ bedroom back in Fortuna. The very one where they had spent a very memorable and intimate moment together in. 

Except it was a mess, and parts of it were distorted in inky ichor. Seraphina was sitting on the ground, against her bedroom door, bloody though she wasn’t truly injured, yet acting like she was on the last dredges of her life and using her body to hold the door closed. 

And there was the sound of an infant crying. 

The sounds of thumping against the door told of beasties and demons trying to make their way in. A hastily done ward was drawn upon the door in blood. 

Sera groaned in agony, as she looked up to see Vergil. 

“V…” She said. 

Vergil had only seen her cry once before; for a knight like her to shed tears, it even made his heart cry out.

Coming to her to kneel at her side, he gave her a reassurance that he wasn’t even certain he could fulfill, but he gave it anyway: “We will find him.”

She took in a shaky breath. “No, I meant…”

And then, he understood. She was referring to him, in this very moment of despair. 

He glanced around at the distorted room. 

“This isn’t real, isn’t it, Vergil?” She asked. 

Putting his attention back on her, he wasn’t so sure if he could answer the question. In fact, he had his own question: “This room…”

Sera lifted an arm, and pointed towards her bed behind him. 

Turning, he thought his heart was going to stop at the implications of what he was seeing: the source of crying came from a dark bundle on the bed. A bundle that should clearly contain an infant. The trail of blood from the sheets, off the bed, to the door, was evidence of Seraphina’s agony to get to the door and barricade it. 

Vergil forced himself to get up, and forced his legs to bring him to the bedside.

And gazed down at the crying bundle to find…

Nothing. 

Darkness. A shadowy form that was in the shape of an infant but nothing concrete. 

Suddenly, he understood. 

“This is a memory. Your nightmare.”

Sera did not respond, but her breathing was still heavy, seemingly near hyperventilation. 

He remembered, right before they were captured by Mundus, the brief revelation from her that she was attacked when the child was born. 

He spoke before he could stop himself: “Why was there so much blood?” This wasn’t normal, was it? Vitale’s birth hardly involved any blood at all, though as Nelo Angelo he was more concerned with keeping their room safe, and he couldn’t be sure how the process differs between humans, devils, or not-quite-devils or not-quite-humans.

“I cut myself open.” She stated plainly. 

He remembered that implication now, from a long time ago. 

“I was gravely injured. The claw had actually gone beyond the skin. So I cut myself open…” 

Vergil watched as she held up her right arm, and re-formed her weapon about her arm into a clawed gauntlet, and understood what she did with mild horror. 

“I was supposed to die here, Vergil. Bleed to death, while fearing the wards on the door and in the blanket would not hold after I expire…”

He couldn’t take it anymore. Her tears and anguish brought distress to him. With three long strides he made it from the false infant to her, and crumpled down to hug her:

“This is only a nightmare. This is not real. It was in the past, and this time everything will be different. I will get you and Vitale out of here, Seraphina. I promise you, and I do not make promises lightly. I will not keep you guessing any longer on the fate of your child--”

Hands wrapped back around him, though still slightly clawed. It was the same embrace he felt from her when he was Nelo Angelo. 

“ _Our_ child. And _we_ will find them.” She reminded him, though there was a hitch in her voice. 

That was when they heard, a small voice from far away:

_“Mama? Papa? Where are you… I’m scared…”_

* * *

Dante expected another rematch with something nasty, after being engulfed in the goop. 

But instead, he found himself tucked away inside a familiar closet, and he felt like he was about to hyperventilate. 

As an adult, he should be too big for this closet now, even with his legs folded and knees drawn close to his body, as he had grown into considerable height compared to when he was eight. But this closet was just as big as he remembered for when he was eight, and he could feel the heat, and hear the crackling of the fire beyond the closet. 

He knew why he had to remain here. This was the only safe place left that still had his mother’s magic. So long as that magic held, the flames would not get him, and the demons would not find him. 

And he watched the flames through the ventilated closet doors. 

Mother said he had to stay here. Mother told him to stay safe. 

_But it was all his fault…_

_It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault it’s all my fault it’s all--_

_I made Vergil run away. I made mother chase after him. I caused her to die looking for him because I made Vergil upset._

_I made Vergil unhappy…_

And then he heard it. The scream. Her scream. 

And he looked down at his hands, and realized with a startling realization: _But this time could be different._

Because he wasn’t eight years old and helpless anymore. 

Busting out of the closet with sword in hand, he expected to see the crumbling manor and his mother right outside.

But suddenly, the closet was gone. The fire was gone. The heat was gone…

But the horror remained. 

A quiet room of flesh, with mounds of sickly flesh hanging from the ceiling and protruding from the floor. Sickly and disgusting half-formed or mangled forms of Eva stuck half-consumed in said flesh…

Dante felt like he was going to be sick. Scratch that, he DID feel sick. It took everything to keep him from retching. 

And then he saw her, the only form free from the sickly flesh, sobbing in the center of the room:

Trish. 

“I’m different. I’m different. I’m not going to be like them. I’m not a failure. I’m different…”

And suddenly, he understood what this room was. 

It never occurred to him that Mundus’ recreations were not flawless, or easy. 

This was the looming guillotine over Trish’s neck. The failures before her, the discarded experiments, and finally: the message of what would happen to her if she failed. 

Should he be upset over how Trish’s very existence was meant to play with his emotions, and bait him into a trap?

But Dante was always one with a sensitive heart. 

He knew that the truth of the matter was that Trish wasn’t given a choice. Not at the start. 

Trying to forget about how sick he felt, he walked up to her. HIs footfalls startled her, as she turned to regard him with fear. 

Dante sighed. “You know… you have my mother’s face. That’s true.”

“It wasn’t enough, clearly. Or maybe my failure was fated simply for being created with this look. You might be Vergil’s twin, but you were built up by a different mould…”

“Hey, you don’t actually know Vergil. If he had been clear-minded, he would have killed you the moment he saw you. Count yourself lucky. You haven’t failed yet. You’re still alive.”

 _“I won’t be for long.”_ She spat. “Your mercy did not save me, Dante.”

“And what about Seraphina’s mercy? Or, how about Vitale’s mercy? More importantly, I think we should talk about your mercy.” He crouched down to be at eye-level with her.

“You could have said and done a lot worse back there, in the presence of the kid. But you didn’t. You also went out of your way to keep the kid entertained. And you don’t have to tell me it was for the sake of keeping up appearances. I’m sure what you did was all extra, compared to what Mundus really wanted from you. You didn’t want to break the kid’s heart.”

Trish remained silent for a long while. Seeing that she wasn’t going to respond just yet, he stood up, and stretched.

“Well, it’s your call, Trish. Angel’s right. You still have an avenue or two left open for you. Still got a chance to make it out of all of this alive. You don’t have to keep being my mother’s shade. You’ll never have her soul, or her fire, anyway; and may her soul rest in peace. You just need to be Trish. Light your own fire.”

“I don’t know what it means to be… whatever it is I am!” She was clearly distraught over it. 

“Now’s a good time to find out then, right? Better late than never, as they say.”

And for a while, again, she remained silent and in thought. 

The silence was interrupted by the distance voice of a pleading child: _“Mama? Papa? Where are you… I’m scared…”_

Trish stood up. But then she paused. 

“He calls for his mother and sire...”

“But you stood up anyway, because you’re a part of the kid’s life, too.” Dante sighed, and the beckoned. “Come on. We still have lots to do. Kids to save, Demon Kings to slay, and then hightail from the island before it’s too late.”

Though she did not answer, Dante heard her footsteps follow. 

Vergil might call him a fool for it, but he had hope for this devil.

* * *

By the time Dante and Trish found their way through the murky darkness to V, Dante was pleased to see that Seraphina and Vergil had made it to the kid before them. 

What’s more to his surprise, was that V was currently buried into Vergil’s arms, while Sera was the third entity that had her arms and wings wrapped about them both. 

As they neared, Dante heard V say: “Papa feels warm now. No more cold armor. It’s nice.”

“If we had not fallen into Mundus’ hands, you would never have known of that cold armor.” Vergil said bitterly. 

And even Dante thought back to the days they grew up with Eva and Sparda. The Legendary Dark Knight was always warm, and a strong presence. Though the idea of him having been a reliable presence was shattered, the warmth still lingered. 

Perhaps the years and this current scene was able to make Dante forgive his father a little more, and remember the nicer times. 

V noticed their approach, and called first: “E— Trish! And…” He hesitated, as if trying to recall something, and spoke with uncertainty: “Uncle?”

Vergil didn’t say anything to greet them with, or confirm his son’s words. Sera, however, gave Dante a smile, and that’s all the encouragement he needed to say: 

“Jackpot, kiddo. You pick up on things fast. Look, your Uncle Dante brought Trish back, too.” It was so weird to say that, acknowledging this newfound family relation, but never had Dante felt so good, and so light. “Now that we’re all here, we can get out of here!”

“That’s easier said than done, little brother.” Vergil finally joined the conversation, and stood up with V held securely in his arms. “Though we have managed to find each other post haste, there is curiously nothing but darkness here. There is no direction.” And then, he frowned as he glanced down at V: “Where is your Shadow? And Griffon?”

V buried himself further into Vergil’s chest, and mumbled: “They are here. I feel them, but I can’t hear them. Something is keeping me from summoning them. Something very lonely.”

Vergil knit his brow. Even Dante couldn’t quite get what the situation was, and pondered with his hand on his chin. 

And then V said: “The darkness is all alone.”

“The darkness?” Trish looked around, and then gaped: “Do you mean the bioweapon? The Nightmare is lonely?”

Sera also glanced around, and turned to Trish to ask: “What exactly is this bioweapon supposed to be? Clearly its development had little to do with me, so I never caught wind of it before.”

Trish nodded. “It was another one of Mundus’ experiments. Raw destructive power. All brawn and no brain. Well, I wouldn’t say that it’s dumb. But it’s… unruly. The parameters it follows are imperfect, and even Mundus has a hard time controlling it. I’ve heard that he was actually developing this back when Sparda was still his General. It was destructive, but nowhere near as… efficient, as the Dark Knight himself.”

Dante snorted. “Guess old pops had indisputable job security.”

At that, Trish shrugged. “I’ve heard rumors that it was more of a toy than anything else. Perhaps Mundus feared his General, even back then. Feared of what might happen should Sparda had gotten bored… and that said toy was tested against Sparda for whim.”

Getting impatient over the small talk, Vergil brought them back on point: “On another day, I may be more interested in hearing of father’s might. But our priority right now is the escape. Should I still have the Yamato, which can rend through space itself, I may yet get us out of here. But I should remind you all that Mundus has my blade.”

“Trish, you said the bioweapon followed parameters. It is not alive?” Sera asked, with her wings on one side curled about Vergil and V both, as if she were trying to sooth them both. 

Trish was hesitant to answer, clearly unsure of what the answer might be. And V, though a bright child, was still a child with simple understandings. 

And that simple understanding was sometimes exactly what everyone needed, in place of over-thinking:

“The darkness is lonely. But what if it can come with us, too? Trish is coming with us, right? And so is Griffon! And Shadow!” He reached out towards nothing, and yet he might as well be reaching out to the darkness itself. “Do you want to come with us? You won’t have to be alone anymore!”

The adults all looked at each other, a mixture of curiosity and great concern. Vergil spoke up, first: “Vitale, the Nightmare isn’t a… it’s not a pet that--”

But Vitale seemed to pay no heed, as he confidently said: “You won’t have to be shut away for long periods of time anymore!”

Logically speaking, such an exchange shouldn’t be able to garner any form of response from a demon, let alone a bioweapon that is hardly sentient. But perhaps, with its limited parameters, Nightmare, though simple, had simple desires that could be fulfilled by the charisma of a mere child:

The darkness shifted in a way that could not be seen, but instead could be _felt_. No one was prepared to feel their footing give away, as the darkness engulfed their sight of each other. Palpable energy could be felt from Vitale, however, but not in the form of an implosion. 

Instead, it felt more like compaction. Everyone disorientingly found their sight back, and as they picked themselves up from the grotesque flooring of hell, they saw a golem standing before them. Smaller, more compact, made up of the broken and remaining fragments of the Nightmare that Dante had dismantled to the best of his ability. 

And then, Nightmare melted into the ground, and all turned their eyes to see that something changed on Vitale. 

More markings undoubtedly were added upon his skin, and curiously, the inky blackness now extended to his hair. Vergil almost had a dumbfounded look on his face, as he ran his fingers through V’s hair. The child, however, seemed extra pleased with himself, and even more pleased at the rare attention he was getting from his father. 

Before anyone could question what happened, Griffon manifested himself in a flash of sparks, flying over their heads and unleashing a sphere of electricity about himself. “Whoo-whee! That was some power surge there! Ya even know what you just _did_ there, little poet?” He cackled. “You’ve just secured yourself an ace up your sleeve!”

“Vitale,” Sera began in a tone of concern as she also closed in to check on his physical state, “are you okay?”

While V tilted his head to answer with “Yes!” Griffon continued: “Don’t you fret, mama hen. I’d know best if there’s too much strain on my pactmaker’s pacts. He’ll be fine, though he’s still a lil’ chick by my books. Just don’t over-summon the big guy and he’ll be fine.”

“This colour, then is the result of his pact?” Vergil asked. 

V picked up on the concern, and asked: “Does it look bad?”

And Dante laughed. “Actually, looks pretty good on you, kiddo. And to be honest, might do you some good, too. Kids with white hair are… kind of rare.”

There was a lot that went unsaid, and with the way Vergil made eye contact with Dante, they both knew that they had their fair share of problems with their hair colour while on the streets, alone and surviving. Though V would not be alone, the less problems the kid had to deal with, the better. 

Even Trish tried to come closer, but stopped two steps away as Vergil glared at her. She kept her cordial distance, and told V: “You are a very good kid, and you are very special. Perhaps, despite your human blood, you possess the natural makings of a demon lord in your charisma, strengthened by your kindness.”

Still, Sera fretted a little, and added: “But I think three friends is enough, for now. Don’t overtax yourself, sweetheart.”

V squirmed a bit, and turned to make sure he could regard Trish. “But Trish! You’re my friend, too! You bring me books and play chess with me!”

Dante doesn’t think he’s seen Trish genuinely smile yet, but now he’s seen it. She regarded the child not only with a smile, but she seemed set on the path she would take, too: “We can be friends just like we have been. And I bet there are even more interesting things we can find in the human world. I haven’t been up there very much, either. We can discover new things together. I’ve heard human food is variable and interesting. Would you like to go food-hunting with me when we make it up there? That is…” She glanced up at Sera and Vergil. “If I would be allowed to.”

The way Vergil shifted his gaze nearly made Dante snort. He had a feeling his brother had a lot to say in regards to the types of food that would be worth trying. 

“I do miss food… perhaps the first thing we should do when we escape is to have a decent meal.” Sera grinned. 

So Dante took this to mean they were all in agreement on sticking together. “Sounds like a good pizza party in the making! You know what? When we get back, it’s my treat! So, come on!” He beckoned and moved towards the door. “Let’s rock!”

* * *

After a series of cramped corridors, magma, and various obnoxious enemies, they managed to get access to the doors that Mundus was sealed behind.

“So we’ve come back, to where our torments began.” Sera muttered. 

Finding a brief respite, Dante finally thought to ask: “You know, I’ve been wondering for a little bit. How did you end up down here, Angel? And how did you manage to find Vergil?”

The sharp inhale she made worried Dante for a moment. And in a rare instance, where he hasn’t had much memory of Vergil caring for others before, he was told by the older twin:

“That’s somewhat personal, Dante.”

For once, not wanting to challenge the situation, because he didn’t want to cause a fight in front of V, he shrugged and responded: “Okay! That’s fair! Was just curious, since, you know, you two seemed to have a history before you ended up down here.”

“I fell largely by accident..” Sera responded, interrupting him. “Vergil found me, by whatever blessings that be. But beyond those doors was—”

“Was where I continued my own folly to my bitter end, and Seraphina tried to save me, only to fall with me.” 

Taking a deeper breath, Dante opened both palms to Vergil to indicate that he can stop. The elder twin glared bitterly, and the younger said: “It’s in the past now. It’s… You’ve both suffered enough. It’s time to go home now, right?”

Forlorn for the first time Dante has ever seen him, Vergil said bitterly: “Home burned up, Dante. Home has been gone since we were eight.”

And to the side, Trish muttered: “More like I’m leaving home, not that I will miss this place.”

“Then it’s time to make a new home. Gotta build a new nest and all, right? It’s what I did.” He smiled at his brother, knowing that Vergil would have much to say about the state of his place. “And I’ve got a shop with room enough for all of you, while you figure out where to settle.”

Vergil glanced over at Sera, more specifically at V. “The human realm will be… very different.” He said quietly. “But I promise you, it will be safer.”

“Mama said that the safest place is a loving family.”

“...Did she, now?”

Sera patted V on the head, and responded:

“No greater joy in a family found;  
No greater security in trust formed.  
No higher blessing than a freedom to love,  
And by that freedom, I am bound.”

Dante knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. Surprised, he might have been, to know that his brother had not only gotten laid, but did so enough times with this very woman to apparently have two kids. Not surprised, to find that of course, Vergil’s preference in women meant a bias towards poetry. 

It didn’t sound like anything he’s heard before though. He’s sure Vergil would recognize it. 

And sure enough, a smile ghosted Vergil’s lips. “I don’t appear to have that one in my collection.”

“You do, now. And I will have more for you in time to come.”

Oh, so she _wrote_ poetry. Same difference. 

Momentary silence fell, as Dante watched the two of them exchange a meaningful moment. Feeling the need to break up this sappy moment, he clapped both hands together and interrupted: “Right, now. Shouldn’t keep Mr. Demon King waiting, right?”

Trish then asked: “How do we plan on doing this? Is there any plan of attack?”

“Well, if I’m to be honest? I came to this island thinking all I had to do was hack at the big guy alone until he dies, or I die trying. Didn’t have a plan involving more people, but…”

Vergil glanced over. “I can tell you, that alone, I could not accomplish what I set out to do. Though you have lent me the Devil Sword Sparda, I am now without Yamato, so it’s hard to say if I’m any better off in strength than before…”

Dante tsked. “Maybe it isn’t about power, Verge. You’ve got me now. Remember what we accomplished against Arkham? We can do that again. I’ve thought about it for a long time, Verge, since the last time we parted. About all your talk of power. And I regretted not being able to give you a proper answer.” He took a deep breath. “What you wanted, I understand. How you wanted to achieve it was what I didn’t like, except I was too stupid to really know that at the time. And no! You don’t have to drive that point in further. Neither of us were thinking straight. But I have my answer for you now, brother.”

Vergil didn’t protest. His silence was his acknowledgment for Dante to continue.

“Power… is a choice, I think. It’s the choices we can make, and the choices we will make. Sometimes, we make the wrong choices. But nothing is more powerful than having the chance to make the choice again, and knowing what we can do better, right?”

There was so much left unspoken there. An apology that wasn’t an apology. An “I told you so” that wasn’t said outright. A plea that didn’t go unnoticed. 

And Vergil’s answer was his choice, as he took the Devil Sword Sparda, and set its tip to the ground between them. “Take the grip, Dante.”

“Wait, no. You can’t fight without a weapon, I’m not—”

“I’m not offering the sword back, Dante. Hold the sword with me.” He slid his hand further up to make room for Dante’s hand below his. 

Uncertain of what Vergil was asking from him, Dante reached over and did as he was told. 

“Humor me. Envision the Perfect Amulet, Dante. Imagine you are grabbing your half, and I have my half. Imagine this sword as the amulet, and imagine that we will pull them apart.”

Everyone looked on curiously as Dante glanced down at the sword grip where their hands were, and then back up at Vergil. “You want to split the sword’s power?”

“On the count of three.”

A pause. And then Dante nodded. 

“One.”

“Two.”

On “Three.” They pulled. 

In a flash of power and light, the sword split. In Dante’s hands was a long sword made of shimmering red light. And in Vergil’s was one of shimmering blue. Both looked like a mirage of the Force Edge. 

Vergil inspected his half of the sword, and nodded. “What was it that you said, Dante? Something about poetic justice?”

Dante grinned. “Now you’re talking. Here, Trish!” He tossed over Alastor to her. “This should be complimentary to your abilities, right? Stay close to Angel and the kid. Let Verge and I give Mundus an ass-beating.”

“And let you have all the fun?” She drawled, but took the sword and smiled. “You’re too generous, even for a demon lord. I accept this blade for now, and I promise you that you won’t have to worry about us. This will be the first promise I’ve ever made. I intend to keep it.”

“I sorely wish to give Mundus some payback of my own, but we’ll have to see how things go.” Seraphina’s gauntlets morphed into some fearsome looking claws, as she announced: “Regardless, let’s give him hell.”

Manifesting on his own, Griffon joined the talk: “Yeah! Beat him up for being a big meanie! He made V cry!”

Vitale nodded. 

And so, Vergil and Dante nodded at each other, stepped forward, and kicked the doors open. 

* * *

“So, it has come to this.”

Mundus was highly displeased. By the time every object of his ire came walking through the doors, he was already trying to crack through the marbled demeanor that he was settled into since being trapped. Standing up while pieces of his outer form cracked and even crumbled in places, he extended his wings and shouted:

“YOU! Petulant human woman! It was you who undermined my every move! You think you’d try to thwart me again, and that you would succeed here?”

“Why, I’m honored that you remembered me at all.” Sera bit back with venom. 

“I should have killed you the moment you landed in my palm! So this is how you repay my mercy?”

“I owe you nothing, bastard!” 

Mundus felt his ire rise. Had he still remembered the days of old, when all was good, before his quest for power turned Sparda against him, he would have remembered once appreciating such fire, and such challenge. 

But those days were gone. Without knowing, he was nothing but a shell that contained vehement want for power and revenge. 

“No matter. Nothing matters anymore. All I have to do is quash you all, and put you back on your places! You are all replaceable! Every single one of you! And _YOU_ , Nelo Angelo…” He felt a surge of satisfaction as the Traitor’s son gripped his glowing blue blade tighter. “You have been very disobedient. If you had wanted to join your brother so badly, all you had to do was defeat him, and deliver him to me. But you couldn’t even do that, how pathetic.”

Knowing that the broken twin had issue with being compared to his younger brother as weak, Mundus pushed all the buttons he could. If he can render Vergil unable to fight, then it would be a simple matter to swat Dante to the side and make a grab for the human and the child. Should he be able to crush either one of them, it should break the Sons of Sparda enough, he should think. And the simulacrum was not even a threat to him. 

But Dante, the younger Son of Sparda, defiantly raised his sword at him, a familiar red hue glowing in his eyes: “You’ve tormented our family for long enough. And your sadistic ways of using your followers as replaceable tools ends here. It’s no wonder pops got sick of your shit. You’d think the saying goes: once bitten, twice shy. Maybe you need a second beating from us, to make it stick.”

And seeming to gather himself together, Vergil, too, raised his blade, a cursed familiar blue power also rising in him: “This will be your end, Mundus. For what you did to our mother. And now, for what you did to what’s left of my family.”

“Insolent fool!” He had enough. Pulling at the power he had been amassing just for this occasion, Mundus compressed the power, and then unleashed it to bring them into an endless expanse. “You will all perish here! I will not make the same mistake again. The blood of Sparda will end here! Never again shall I bear witness to that gaze, that light in your eyes! You will DIE!” 

Mundus placed considerable distance between them, and formed the anchored array in front of him for a shield. 

He barely noticed that the human woman had apparently made the powers he gave her into her own, manifesting Blanco Serafino’s three sets of wings. He didn’t even care to notice as the simulacrum drew power from the Alastor sword to create sparking wings of her own. 

He was disgruntled to find that the Sons of Sparda had enough devil in them to take a demonic form. Curse that power Sparda had left behind! The sword, the sword… the legacy that his all-too-human progeny did not deserve!

Close quarters combat was never Mundus’ speciality. No, there was a reason why Sparda had been so indispensable in his conquest for power. Though Mundus had his own form of brute strength, he was more impressive with casts that would engulf a wide area of effect. 

With nothing but rage fueling his actions, he threw out everything he had: lightning, stone turrets, deadly needles made of demonic power, and even a few chunks of solid rock for good measure. 

“You are weak! Diluted by humanity!” He taunted, the anger over Sparda’s choice of the mortal realm over his ambition coming alight like a fresh wound in his memory. He saw in the backlines the the human woman (he refused to acknowledge her as anything more) handed the pathetic child into the simulacrum’s arms, and the sight of a small Griffon manifesting filled him with even more rage:

“Traitors, all of you! Blinded by humanity, tainted by Sparda’s cause! I will vanquish you all!” At that, he tossed another large boulder at them.

The Traitor’s sons had been the one to blast through the chunks of rock so far, but on this last one, it shattered into several fine pieces to reveal a new player on the field:

Blanco Serafino-- No, whatever she had become, she had changed beyond the loose design that Mundus had forced her into. The red eyes have changed to gold, including the ones in her wings. Her hair remained fine and golden, and a pair of horns now adorned her head, curving to nearly form a halo that swept back. Though the most of her form was still alabaster white, curious scales now adorned other parts of her body as shielding, and golden trim glinted and sparkled. 

The bladed whips that traced back to her hands re-formed into rapiers, indicating who had come to the front lines to deal with the boulder. The way that she glanced at each of the twins indicated some form of agreement. 

And Mundus seethed further: “You DARE to continue to oppose a King of Hell?”

And the eyesore of an _angel_ laughed: “You are not _my_ king! _My_ king is far more elegant than you!”

(Behind her, Dante laughed: “She sure has you on a pedestal, Verge!” “Shut up, Dante.” The elder twin glanced away, as if devils could blush.)

“Your _mate_ is nothing but a mutt of diluted bloodline.” Mundus jeered. 

But she simply grinned, and took her stance: “What would you know? You are but a lone king on the far end of the chessboard. Tell me, do you even _know_ what the strongest piece on a chess board is?”

Mundus didn’t care what the answer was, though he was no stranger to chess. In fact, he was very familiar with the game that Sparda had once brought back from the reconnaissance that Mundus had sent him to the mortal realm on. 

There were memories there, associated with chess, that made him bitter. 

And in his bitterness, he faltered just momentarily, as the angelic woman wove through his field of lightning to appear before his protective shield’s stone totems in the blink of an eye to cut the first one down. 

“I can go wherever I please.” She smirked, and he roared as he threw red needles out, only for her to nimbly dodge out of the way. The second totem was shattered by a flick of her bladed whip. 

“I can take down all of your pawns, win over all of your knights, render your advisors useless…” 

Despite him sending more turrets to shoot at her, she shattered a third totem. 

“And I will dismantle your walls!” With the last totem shattered, the barrier broke. And with barriers like these, there was always a downside: when it is dismantled, there is a backlash, and Mundus felt it. 

_“Check.”_ She said, and suddenly dived down, as if to make way.

With a strong triggering of demonic power, Mundus felt it: the flaring of an old and familiar energy that once brought comfort, only now it brought him anger and pain. The flaring of the power of Sparda, as the two half-devil spawn managed to ascend yet again into a higher form that should not have been possible.

Mundus never thought he’d see another form similar to that of Sparda’s ever again: the final form that Sparda hardly used, as testament to his sword skills, to be able to defeat armies without becoming a feral beast. Draconic devils of glowing colour, one bright red and one bright blue, closed the distance between them and Mundus like two meteors that gravitate around each other. 

In a brilliant spiral of red and blue energy, Mundus felt the blow hit him hard. 

He fell back. 

Fell down. 

_Ah, how I hated this feeling… it’s always_ **_him_ ** _…_ **_he_ ** _always wins… but no, not this time. I WILL NOT LOSE TO SPARDA!_

He threw out more piercing red beams, and summoned a shower of meteors. With the twins so close, they couldn’t help but be caught in the fire, and the three of them plummeted down into a new area that Mundus ripped open to drop them into. 

He cared not that it left the others out in a different field. Once he deals with these unruly mutts, he will deal with the simulacrum, the human, and the worthless child. He’ll even make sure to pluck Griffon’s feathers one by one before putting the traitor out of his misery. 

He is the King of Hell! Prince of Darkness! Partaker of the Qliphoth Fruit! And lived far longer than these two whelpings of Sparda!

Surely, he could not be wrong in his predicted victory?

* * *

Mundus did not perish in magma and hellfire.

Vergil was displeased, as they fought, and instead of fighting to the bitter end, Mundus _fled_. 

“He _escaped._ The _coward_ !” Vergil snarled into the sky. The fight against Mundus with Dante at his back went significantly smoother than the time he faced against Mundus alone, but seeing the tyrant flee was _not_ a victory. 

“Vergil, wait!” Dante grabbed his arm as the hellscape of magma and rock began to break apart, revealing that they were about to be dropped back into the marbled temple. They could see that Sera, Trish, and V were actually safely deposited there when Mundus took the twins down into the fiery lair. 

He knew what Dante was trying to say, and bit back the instinct to take chase after his sworn enemy. Both of them dashed towards the room, to make their way out of the crumbling dimension. But something glimmered at the corner of Vergl’s eye. 

And that something felt familiar. 

He glanced over, and instinctively reached out towards it. 

Everything shattered. 

Dante and Vergil were both standing in the temple now. Vergil had something in his hand but he wasn’t sure what it was, as the first thing that happened was that Sera gave him a tight embrace, as V tried his best to also embrace Vergil’s leg. 

There was no time for the exchange of words. 

The entire island rumbled. The gate was destabilizing, and if they didn’t make it out, soon, Mundus was going to try and bury them alive on the island. 

So they ran, with Dante at front. They ran, and as they ran, Vergil glanced down and finally realized what he was holding:

It was a shard of the Yamato. 

There was a shred of hope, as he reclaimed a shard of his sword and thus his power. But even he recognized that this was not going to be enough for him to cut a portal out of here. Not for all of them. The amount of power channeled through the portal only be enough for him to perhaps toss one person through…

Maybe two, since Vitale was not an adult person. 

And he resolved that if things went bad, he must send Sera and Vitale away from here. He and Dante could spend their eternity to make sure Mundus never leaves, and that would be enough. (He had no love for Trish, and found no shame in thinking so.)

In pondering over what his best and worst case scenarios were, _none_ of the party was able to predict and get out of the way of the collapsing floor that brought them down into a cellar. The way the collapse happened blocked off the only exit, and blocked even their way out by ways of up. 

What’s worse was the yelp Sera made as they landed. 

“Mama!” V shouted in concern.

Shadow and Griffon flanked mother and child in concern, with Griffon chattering: “Oh no, oh no, this isn’t looking too good…”

She had deployed her wings to try and soften the landing and prevent Vitale from getting hurt, and in doing so, two of her wings were caught and clipped by falling debris, and another was bent out of shape from landing upon it. Though she had accelerated healing from becoming more demonic, it was nowhere near on par as what Dante and Vergil were capable of: she wasn’t going to recover in the blink of an eye. 

And then, Mundus came again. He broke through space in order to pull his crumbling form halfway into the now-cramped cellar. 

“The Gate has been opened... None of you are getting away. _This_ is where you will all DIE!” 

Vergil glanced around. There was no visible exit. 

Was this it? Is this where he will have to make his decision? The Yamato shard seemed to burn in his hand, and he knew he had to make his choice as he watched V sob at his mother’s pain, while Sera tried to sooth him despite the distress she was in. 

_I was too powerless to save myself, or my own mother. I was weak. And so is Vitale._ Vergil thought. _I used to think that the only way to have anything we want in life, is to take it yourself. But maybe I was wrong. Vitale doesn’t have to suffer the way I did. He doesn’t deserve it, and he will not be able to fight back as he is now. But I’m here. I’m HERE. Where Sparda wasn’t there for me, I am here for them. I can…_

“Verge…!?” Dante shouted as he noticed Vergil turn on his heels back towards Sera and Vitale, startled that his older twin would turn his back on the enemy at first, but his name tapered off into understanding on his tongue and he understood where Vergil was running back towards. 

It took two strides to make it to them, and as he knelt down before them, Mundus dared to try and strike at them, but he didn’t care. 

Dante had his back, as Ivory sounded. “Hey, ugly! I’m over here.” Dante taunted.

Trish, also, had brandished Alastor to give Dante her backup. 

Vergil ignored it all, and showed Sera and V the shard in hand. “Would Fortuna be a good place to return to?”

“This is…” Sera asked breathlessly. 

Griffon shouted: “Holy shit! That’s a shard of the Yamato!”

“Language!” Sera still found it in her to chastise him.

Vergil didn’t want to be wasting any more time. “My blade has the ability to cut through space. I could--”

Sera’s eyes widened, and then her demeanor harshened. “ _No._ ” She cut him off. “No. If this could have gotten all of us out, you wouldn’t be running back here to just me and Vitale. We can’t just--”

“It is the only way. It is the only thing I can do. It is what I _must_ do, Seraphina. At best, I can get you and Vitale to safety!”

Vitale seemed to panic, and he reached out to grab ahold of Vergil’s coat, tears welling down his eyes. “No! Papa can’t leave us!”

“I’m not leaving you, child. I’m trying to save you and your mother.” (“Wait, is this really the time to be arguing?” Griffon’s pleas were ignored.)

“Papa can’t stay here! We’re family! You will be alone without family!”

“I have my idiot twin. I won’t be alone.”

“But…” Vitale looked hurt, and his grip on his coat became tighter. “But then Mama and I will be alone!”

Vergil didn’t know what to say to that. 

Was this the painful decision his father had tried to make? To separate and confront Mundus on his own, as far away as possible, to try and keep the Demon King away from his family? Or stay, and watch his family be put in danger before his very eyes?

What was worse? Sending them off to never know if his plan will succeed? Or stay, and worry that they will all perish together?

And this entire exchange did not go unnoticed. Dante hissed under his breath, and said: “There _has_ to be another way, Verge…”

And Mundus laughed. “Pitiful humans. Pitiful, weak, beings, all of you. There will be no escape. Perish here…”

“Why don’t you look around?” Dante spat. “Even if we did die here, this will be your burial ground, as well!” He then glanced back at Vergil: “Is it power you need? Just enough, to let one more person through?” 

Dante drew back his sword arm, and Vergil’s eyes widened as he realized what his twin intended to do: he was going to return the other half of the Sparda Sword to him. For that one more bit of power. Enough to keep the portal stable enough for one more traveller. 

Dante would bury himself with Mundus to buy Vergil an escape. 

One that he did not deserve. 

The familiar rebuttal of “no” tried to make it past his lips, but it wasn’t his voice he heard when he tried to refuse Dante. 

The word never sounded from him at all. 

It was instead the shrill scream of a child, of Vitale, and sounded: “NO!!”

And in a burst of power, Vergil felt like an explosion happened in the room. Distinct power rippled from V, and Vergil saw how the black inky colour lifted from the child’s hair like mist, revealing again the white locks that were akin to a mark of proof of lineage. 

Nightmare, the golem, manifested in the room by tearing through a crack in space itself, and grappled with Mundus. 

“So the puppet thinks it has a new master!” Mundus roared. 

Griffon even flew in to deliver his shot: “Read the fine-print, big guy! We’re not puppets! We’re _friends_! Look that up in the dictionary, pal!”

Though stunned, Vergil wasn’t sure if this was going to be a tipping point for them. Even should they defeat Mundus here, there was still no way out of the chamber. 

And that’s when Trish, not involved in the same family drama and privy to a certain other set of observations, brought them their turning point. 

In a flash of purple lightning, she got close to Mundus. Very close. A distance she wouldn’t dare step into if Nightmare didn’t have the Emperor locked down. She seemed to see something in the writhing mass that was spilling forth from the crumbling stone exterior, and performed two slices with the Alastor, and then dislodged something to kick it towards Vergil. 

When he first caught the item, he gasped. Actually _gasped_. “Yamato’s hilt!” And half of her broken blade. 

Then came the other half of the blade and then the sheath. With all the major components back in his hands, Vergil suddenly saw _hope_. 

Real hope. 

No longer just a feeling born from rough-cut determination. 

The blade reformed in his hands, as he himself was now also healthy, whole, and no longer downtrodden and beaten. With the mirage of the Force Edge at his back, and Yamato back in his hands, he knew how everything would play out now, and stood to join Dante at his side. Glancing over at Trish, he said the three words that he never thought he’d say to the simulacrum:

“Thank you, Trish.”

She grinned, “Don’t thank me yet. Dante! Take this!” She charged up the Alastor with as much of her power as possible, and tossed it at him. Dante caught it easily, and the surge of power ran through the sword and into him. 

And he grinned. 

“Well, Verge, what do you say? Just like old times?” He put the sword away to grab his guns, power surging through them, much like how Vergil felt with the Yamato back in his hands. 

“You _always_ insist on getting your way, don’t you, Dante?” Though the words might have contained a familiar scowl, Vergil himself felt a smirk upon his lips, and reached towards the proffered Ebony. 

Trish made her way quickly back to where Sera and Vitale were, and grinned at the sight of the twins raising their guns. “Looks like we have a winner.”

“Ya think?” Griffon commented as he landed.

And then the gunfire sounded. _“Jackpot.”_

With a well-placed double-shot, Mundus lost his grasp on his ability to remain manifested. Disappearing back through his portal, he promised: “I will return, Sons of Sparda! I will return, I will stamp your existence and your blood out from both realms, and I will rule this world!”

“Goodbye! We’ll be waiting, because now that the family’s back together, we won’t fall to the likes of you again.” Dante smirked as he caught the gun that Vergil casually tossed back.

“And should you take long enough, you can say hi again to the next generation.” Vergil finished off the fight by brandishing Yamato. With one quick movement, he laid in the final blow that served to seal the portal that Mundus had tried to come through. 

With the Prince of Darkness re-sealed, Nightmare also melted away. Vergil’s first order of business was to check on Sera and Vitale. 

The child, having spent all of his current energy, was fast asleep in his mother’s arms. Vergil sighed in relief as he ran his hand through V’s hair, now black again. He couldn’t hold back the emotion anymore, and brought Sera and the sleeping Vitale close to him to silently shed tears of relief on Sera’s shoulder.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Dante or Trish. And Trish, without the same kind of bad blood the brother’s had from childhood teasing, said without reservation: “I never thought the likes of us could cry. But I guess even devils may cry…”

Dante laughed. “Man, can’t believe I’d hear that twice.”

And then the ground rumbled again, and Trish urged: “It’s a miracle that we won. I think I felt relief for the first time. As much as I want to ponder on this emotion, if we don’t find a way out right now, I won’t be able to ponder anything else ever again.”

Standing up once again, Vergil unsheathed the Yamato, and beckoned for Dante to come close. “Let us leave for home then. I believe you said your shop will have enough room for us for a while?”

“Always, bro. For family? Always. And that includes Trish.”

Vergil couldn’t find the heart to argue. Whatever attachment Dante had with the simulacrum, Vergil was going to simply accept. He hated owing that woman anything, but for his family? He’ll accept it. 

And with Dante’s help, he created the portal that sent all of them to Devil May Cry. 

After they left, the ceiling caved in some more, and the old plane that didn’t have any hopes or signs of flying dropped into the chamber. Afterwards, the island exploded in dissipating demonic energy that no one else bore witness to. 

Back in Redgrave, Dante first planned to treat everyone to the wonders that is pizza for celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- V is about 8 years old with mild “common sense” regarding human things due to the books Trish had been sneaking to him. And Griffon surprisingly answered a lot of questions for the kid because it gives him an excuse to chatter without worry.  
> \- Also, V didn’t react to Sera changing form because he’s no stranger to the concept that demons and devils could change shape. He is curious about the new look in both his parents, but there’s little time to address it.  
> \- Rewriting fight scenes is difficult. Doesn’t feel anywhere as satisfying as playing the game. But uh… really the final fights against Mundus weren’t as entertaining as the other boss fights for me, haha.  
> \- I thought about the “Devils Never Cry” thing… and decided against it. DMC ended on a note of Trish discovering humanity blossoming in herself. This story isn’t just about that. I do appreciate her, though.


	4. Extra: Castling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time for Nero to return to his family. But before that, Vergil resolves to build a proper nest for his family, so that they can welcome Nero back to warmth and comfort, in addition to love and protection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The question I asked myself when I was planning this story: how to not have to separate Nero from Kyrie but still let him have his parents and his sibling. The answer seemed fairly obvious.  
> \- Stopping the story at chapter 3 was a decent ending, if you ask me. This chapter is more suited for a "standalone" but I think it was just as good to be added as an "extra/epilogue." Though, fret not... I'm sure to write more short stories for this AU later.

Supreme General Leo Eleison was more than happy to hear the knock at his office door. 

He wasn’t often in the office, but there were set days where paperwork still had to be done. Payroll to sign, reports to file, requests for leave to peruse…

“Come in.” Leo called. 

The door opened to reveal Credo. Having only just turned 16 not long ago, Leo’s teenage son was on the fast track to knighthood. It was really something, to consider, how the time flew by. 

“Lunch, father?” He asked as he set down the basket on his desk. “And mother did want me to pass on the message that Kyrie and Nero helped.” The teen smiled softly, a rare softness that only shows at the mentions of family, which included the young boy that Leo and Nova opted to take under their wing. 

“Never miss a chance to take a lunch break with you, son.” Leo lifted the cloth over the basket to peer in. “I see you stopped by the marketplace on your way here.” 

Sitting in the basket was also a small jar of fresh preserves that came from the family’s favorite grocer. 

As Credo began to bring the items out of the basket while Leo cleared his desk off and poured water from the pitcher he kept for guests, the teen also started: “I did. Speaking of which, has there been any appeal from a mainlander about taking up residence in the city?”

Not seeing how this question was connected to his son’s trip to the marketplace, Leo found himself a little baffled. Mainlanders requesting to become a part of the community was a big thing, and happens very seldom. In fact, in the time Leo has lived, only one instance of it has occurred, and that was the welcoming of the now Chief Alchemist, Agnus. 

“No, nothing of the sort has come in. Why?”

“Well, I guess I have gossip to share, then.”

Leo couldn’t help but laugh. Credo was often a serious child, perhaps too serious for his own good. To hear such words coming from him… “Gossip? I can hardly imagine you participating in gossip. Who are you and what have you done to my stoic son?”

“I wasn’t participating in gossip.” Though he said it like an argument, Credo was one to take Leo’s teasing with a smile. “You know how some of the regulars of the marketplace are like. If anything, I think I was more gathering intel. I guess in the past three to four days, the shopkeepers and citizens have seen a new face coming by, for groceries and the likes.”

“A visitor to the island isn’t something new. What had the citizens talking?” 

Credo first made himself comfortable in a chair while Leo grabbed a neatly wrapped sandwich from the basket. 

“Honestly, it’s a lot of different things about the same person. Fresh blood, a new face, you know. Plenty of people remark on how the mainlander is nice on the eyes, though a few mentioned how he seemed hard to approach in certain instances. Someone asked if there was such a thing as royalty, still, off the island.”

“I hardly believe a king or a prince would try to visit without fanfare, supposing we think it’s safe for them to come within the city in the first place. Influential mainlanders can be… critical, of our ways.” Leo responded. “I don’t believe this is the first time we’ve had a visitor who garnered the infatuation of a citizen or two.”

“I suppose not, though the last one certainly wasn’t a community heartthrob.” 

Leo nearly choked on his sandwich as he tried to stop himself from laughing. Credo was… not very fond of Agnus. And he couldn’t blame his son. Agnus was… eccentric. Leo will withhold comments about the man’s appearance, however. It is only… polite. 

“I’m certain the gossip about the foreigner’s dashing looks is not the reason you took interest in the gossip, Credo. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”

_“Father.”_

“I jest. Continue.” He casually waved his hand, still holding the sandwich, before taking another bite. 

“I became privy to some speculatory conversation between the grocer and their neighboring seafood stall. Turns out the first day they saw him, he purchased a few cookware, and asked the grocer for recommendations on foods that would be easy on the stomach for a child who was not eating well. Naturally, he was directed towards fish that would be easy to clean and prepare.” Credo started, and then paused to take a bite of his own sandwich, before continuing:

“He’s been seen at the marketplace all four days so far, coming in for fresh produce, and a few new pieces of houseware for every trip. New knife, new kitchen utensils… Oh, notably he made two trips on the second day he was seen, one of the trips involving a completely new set of bedding and some curtains. So, you see, people are wondering if there’s a new resident in the city. Only, if there hasn’t been an appeal you’ve heard about, then where is he _staying_?”

Moment of silence fell as they both made sure to partake in their food. 

“No, that _is_ curious. Is there more about this stranger?” Leo was beginning to see what had Credo so intrigued. 

“Yes. It’s not a far cry for people to come to the conclusion that this man has with him a sickly child. Our favorite grocer has latched on to the detail on the inquiry for food recommendations, and is already starting to compile further suggestions. Perhaps he came to Fortuna looking for a cure for his child’s health?”

Hearing that, Leo had to frown. “Saviour bless him and the child, but we are not a community of miracle workers. If the technology of the mainland can’t help him…”

“But what if the child is cursed? I didn’t dare to bring that up in front of grocers, of course. They thought to ask me if mother would have imparted any knowledge regarding foods, since she’s a nurse.”

“If it is a curse, and the mainlander starts to ask about it, I suppose eventually the news will have to be brought up to His Holiness, and Agnus may be able to help.”

Of course, Credo wasn’t too fond of that idea. “Forgive me for saying so, but Agnus’ expertise might be better focused on the prototype devil hunting weapons he’s building right now. All of us new recruits are hearing a lot about it, and perhaps he should focus on that.” 

“Unfortunately, my command of the situation only extends to the Holy Knights, my son. Agnus is working directly with His Holiness.” 

Leo knew that Credo understood that. His son was studious on how the chain of command works, and is very self-disciplined. Sometimes, Leo feared Credo was a little too set in his ways, however. 

But then there were times like these, where Credo shows that he does think outside of following regulations or following the norm: “I have reason to think that you should meet this foreigner yourself, first, father.”

Still going through his lunch, Leo nodded for Credo to continue his explanation. 

“I haven’t seen him for myself, but he is recognizable not entirely because he is not conservative enough to wear a hood of any sort. I have heard that his hair is the colour of pure snow, father. But the talk of the streets is intrigued by his age being only about mid-twenties, give or take.”

There was a meaningful look Credo gave him, and Leo felt his thoughts come to a screeching halt. 

“It could be dyed?” Leo suggested, though he wasn’t sure if even the mainland had dye that could produce the quality Credo described. 

But Credo could only respond with a wary glance of skepticism, as he pressed his lips to a thin line. 

Now, when someone said _snow white hair_ , it was a descriptor that evoked both a purity and fantasy that made people both wonder and take skepticism. 

It was said that The Saviour, Sparda, had pure white hair. 

Such a trait was seldom possible to be natural in humans from birth, and typically came from albinism, which often denoted some manner of frailty. 

But Credo was not bringing this up because of the Saviour, and he certainly was taught better than to be nosey about someone’s medical condition. 

No, both Credo and Leo were now thinking of the ten-year-old child that was being fostered in their home. 

And unbeknownst to Credo, Leo and his wife didn’t agree to take Nero in because of the excuse that “Nero’s hair evoked the blessings of the Saviour.”

It was because they knew the secret of a missing person of Fortuna. The shunned Lady Knight, disowned of the Valkyrie family yet still kept her Valkyrie name, whose disappearance was written off as “an unfortunate run-in with demons that overpowered her” and pronounced dead…

Leo’s ward, mentee, and friend: Seraphina Valkyrie. 

And her secret, before her disappearance was finally pronounced as a case closed, was that she was with child while unmarried. 

Unwelcome rumors of favoritism already circled her, and she kept the pregnancy hidden not because she was fearful of society judging her, but because she knew what people might start up about the Supreme General himself. And she did not want to mar his good name. 

To what end did he deserve the lack of false rumors, when she was already suffering injustice even before she became pregnant? And that she stubbornly kept the child at all, told Leo of everything he needed to know about her suitor: she saw something in the mysterious lover of hers. 

And he was certain it was the mysterious cloaked visitor to the libraries of the island, ten years ago.

Sera would not have abandoned her child. As Credo’s and Kyrie’s godmother, she showed them enough adoration, and even adoration to her unborn child, that it was beyond belief she would have abandoned her child to leave the island. 

_Has Nero’s father come back to Fortuna, looking for Sera?_

_Who might this other child with him be, then?_

_And what would he do, should he find out about Nero?_

And Leo is certain that Credo, who sees Nero as his little brother, is also concerned: does this mean Nero would be leaving them soon, and would he actually be safer and happier with this stranger if they were family?

There was one other thing on Leo’s mind. Something that no one but the higher-ups of the Order of the Sword knew about. 

Five days ago, they discovered that the seal upon Fortuna Castle, which no one had been able to break, was lifted. Nothing else has been observed. No spike in demonic activity, no obvious other changes... though just yesterday, an officer tasked with checking on the castle with a viewing scope reported that they noticed some of the nearby plants, weeds, and vines have been curiously cleaned up and even pruned, as if someone was making the area around the castle liveable. 

Someone has taken up residence in the castle. 

No one dared say the thought: Has The Saviour returned?

Dangerous implications regarding this new stranger in their city started to populate in Leo’s head. 

_Sera, just who did you win the gaze of, ten years ago?_

Finishing his lunch, Leo hid his anxiety behind a dutiful nod. “I see. I’ll head to the marketplace tomorrow morning, and see what I can find out. Perhaps it would be more fitting for me to extend welcome to this visitor.”

* * *

The next day, Leo took to the marketplace. It was common for him to pass by even when on duty, as the Supreme General, though he commanded the knights, the knights protected the people. So knowing his people was important. 

He went about stores and stalls, picking up a few small things while politely inquiring about the stranger in the city. 

Most of the shopkeepers understood that a foreigner can be a concern, and it was only a matter of time before the Order might inquire about a long-term guest. 

There were varying things Leo learnt from the trip:

“Oh, the foreigner? Yes, he’s been by every day about this week. Picks up fresh things every trip. He’s always very early, too. Seems to not be fond of crowds, if you ask me.”

( _Perhaps he’s wary of being here? As one should, as an outsider._ Leo thought.)

“The mainlander with white hair? Oh yes! Very shy, if you ask me. Stared at one of the display shelves for a long while before he finally asked for a recommendation. I’ll have you know though, Sir, there’s a lady involved. And he’s got that telltale uncertainty about him on how to please the lady. I wonder if he’s here for a lady in the city?”

( _If he’s here for Sera… No, it sounds like he has someone with him already?_ )

“The handsome mister with the white hair?” This particular store assistant blushed red with a dreamy expression. “I’ve seen him a few times. The poor guy often seems confused and a little upset. Wished there was something I could do for him…”

(Leo found this entire situation complicated enough, and thought it better if no more citizens fell to the charms of a beguiling foreigner.)

“Oh, my good General, if _looks could kill._ And I do mean that both ways. The gentleman has a sharp hearing, I assure you. Another customer muttered something a little too pointed near me while he was a little ways away, but I could tell from his expression that he was not pleased.”

(Again, this seemed concerning. He might be very hard to approach.)

“Argumentative, Sir. Argumentative and then acts like it’s not worth his time. But I suppose, as a foreigner, he knew better than to argue with the locals. What would he know of the Saviour, after all?” 

(Hearing this made something in Leo’s stomach drop.)

A surprising little chat with the elderly toy-making couple revealed something a little more interesting:

“Ah, the sweet lad! I spoke with him a little, when he paused by my shop window. Was considering a new toy for his son, he said, but he wasn’t sure what would be a good buy. I suspect this is the stranger I’ve been hearing about who has a sickly young child? The child is about eight, he said--”

The significant other then interrupted: “The child’s name is Vitale. We asked. It must be the same foreigner we heard about, dear. That hair colour, on someone so young? Exceptionally rare. And the child must have been sick since birth”

“Oh, yes, yes, you did say that. Why else would he not have brought little Vitale with him, to pick out a toy? Now, he did say the little one enjoyed reading. But a child could always use a companion that isn’t a book, now, don’t you think, General Leo?”

Leo couldn’t help but smile a bit, hearing that. “Yes, even the most studious of children could use a companion.” He had, of course, purchased many a plush or toy from this couple, years before. Credo, serious as he was, adored the shark plush. Though he had since re-gifted it to Nero, Leo suspected that Credo only did so because he trusted Nero to take good care of it. And the boy did.

“Well, he came back just not too long ago and made a decision on what to bring back for the child. He picked out the lovely black doggie plush from that shelf over there, and--”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think the General is really here to listen to what our customers have been purchasing.”

On the contrary, knowing that this foreigner did care for the child was good information to have. “Vitale” for a child’s name, however… so perhaps Credo was right. Maybe this foreigner sought some manner of cure for the child. 

“Did you ever happen to get his name?” Leo asked. 

“Oh, I’m afraid not, Sir Leo.”

“That’s fair. I simply wish to meet this mainlander myself. If he’s here in the city to eventually seek help, you see--”

Again, he forgot how one of the shopkeepers was prone to interrupting. “Oh, of course! Saviour bless him, perhaps he’s hoping the Order could take a look at what ails the child? Why, you might be able to catch him before he leaves the market square, then. He was going to stop by a bookstore and a place for tea, you see. Asked for recommendations, he did. A new book for the child, and tea for the mother.”

Despite having been interrupted, this was all still very good information. Leo thanked them and set out to see if he could catch this distinguished stranger. 

Knowing that the bookstore would be the nearest first stop, Leo set out for the tea shop, instead. 

Coincidentally, this meant he could restock on a few things for his household pantry, as well. 

And all the while he was walking down towards the shop, he couldn’t help but find the detail about Vitale’s mother being of interest.

He still had suspicions regarding this stranger, and his possible connection with Nero, and in turn, Seraphina. 

The tea shop owner was an elderly man whom Leo came to be acquainted through from his wife. In fact, as he entered the shop, he could still remember coming here for the first time nearly two decades ago, when he was still an officer, just a bit shy of the promotion he eventually received following Former Supreme General Sanctus’ retirement. 

This tea shop was the recommended one by information gathered from his peers, that the young nurse practitioner he was interested in came here every week. 

Of course, the rest of how his efforts to court her was history that led them to their present. 

The owner of the tea shop was happy to see Leo. They were familiar like friends, so Leo kindly asked if the foreigner had stopped by yet, and explained that he needed to see this man for himself. 

“Ah, yes, yes… I’ve heard a few things about him. Now, Leo, I do understand that this mainlander has white hair?” The shopkeep pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and nodded with an understanding. “But of course… well, please feel free to browse and wait, sir. Should he come by, I’ll give you what opportunity there is to speak with him.”

Grateful for the subtle support, Leo first picked up the tin of tea that he knew he would need for home, and mused over his thoughts on how he was going to handle this conversation should the stranger arrive. 

Some of his musing became waylaid as he stared down at the tea he had in hand. 

It was a fairly simple tea. Nothing too extraordinary, he had discovered. But it was a familiar comfort to his wife, and now it was a familiar comfort to even him and his children. Even Nero, though unused to tea at first, learned to like it through Kyrie’s magic. 

This tea was more than something shared between his family. 

It was also shared with a friend. 

And again, he thought of Sera. 

The bell to the door jingled. Leo took one glance over, and saw exactly who he was waiting on. 

And though he forced himself to give the stranger a polite nod, first, and tried to look away, he worried his gaze lingered just a little too long. 

There was truth on the words of praise from the young maidens and even a few lads on this foreigner’s beauty, the kind cut from cold marble and set with a powerful presence. But it wasn’t the beauty of his features that mattered to Leo’s observations. 

Though Nero was only ten, Leo had wondered before on what exactly kind of features the child’s father had, to have such sharpness already beginning to set in. When Nero scowled, it was something fierce. Sera had always been a bit haughty, for if she weren’t, she wouldn’t have held against the backlash her grandfather created against her. But Nero’s plucky attitude was made more severe by how his facial features showed his emotions. 

It was clear now, that whatever framework Nero had inherited from his mother, was only accentuated and made sharper by that of his father. 

And there was no doubt in Leo’s mind now on who he was looking at. 

Leo was willing to bet a lot on the truth being that this was the man Seraphina had held interest in, a little more than ten years ago. 

Suddenly, Leo wanted to interrogate this man on the spot. So many questions, so many concerns:

Why did he leave? Did he know what he had left Sera with? Did he even care? Moreover, has he forgotten of her, and left her for someone else?

Leo realized also, in seeing him, that he was only about the same age as Seraphina, maybe even younger. 

But Leo was not the Supreme General without being able to control his impulses. 

Pretending to ignore the stranger in favor for the shelves, he listened at the conversation beside him:

“Welcome, welcome. Well, a new face. Don’t get a lot of those around here. Tell me, good sir, how might my humble tea shop assist you?”

The foreigner did not immediately respond, but he eventually did: “Good morning. I am… I am here for tea, of course. But if I could find something specific…” He trailed off. 

“Might it be something you don’t know the name of? Describe what you can for me then, sir. Let me see what I can find for you.”

“I’m not very familiar with tea. Not from experience. I do believe it’s a black blend. It might be simply something common, but I was served it by a very kind host. It’s been some time, and I thought I could surprise her. I would be able to recognize it by the scent, however...”

Leo couldn’t help but turn and face the conversation, and decided he was going to take the gamble by reaching out with the sealed tin that he already had in hand: “If you are certain you can pick it out by scent, and if it’s a black tea, like you say, then perhaps this?” 

Though the tin was sealed, Leo broke the seal to open it. After all, he was going to buy it before leaving, and that was a fact the owner knew. 

In fact, the owner took this moment to state: “Ah, yes, and there was that honey that little Kyrie liked, correct? Let me go fetch that from the back.” And he left for the back room. 

The foreigner gave him a briefly pointed look, clearly recognizing that he was being locked into an interaction that he could not back out of. Ginergly, he received the tin, and scented the tea. 

From this interaction, Leo found the stranger to be curiously subtle and careful with his emotions. 

“I’m fairly certain this is what I’m looking for.” He responded simply as he handed it back to Leo. 

Leo capped the tin, reached over to grab a new one, and handed it over. “It isn’t the grandest of teas, but sometimes, it’s the people we share it with that makes it all the better. Wait.” Leo stopped him from asking whatever it was on his mind, as he brought out his wallet and left the exact amount he knew he needed for both the teas and even the honey that the shopkeeper went to find. “A welcome gift. Welcome to Fortuna.”

There was a clear moment of wariness, before the corner of the visitor’s mouth quirked up, and he surprised Leo: “A perfect welcome that I would accept, Supreme General Leo Eleison.”

Leo had to admit, he was somewhat startled. To be recognized, with both name and rank, sent a chill down his spine. Though there were ways to gather this kind of information, Leo couldn’t help but think of Fortuna Castle, and wonder fearfully again at the true identity of this visitor. 

“It would seem a bit embarrassing, for you to know my name, when I have none to call you by.” He tried tentatively. 

The visitor seemed to pick up on his hidden concern, and the way his amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth immediately reminded Leo of little Nero, when the kid had something smart to say, or had an idea of mischief brewing. 

“It would only be the polite thing to do, to introduce myself. But I would not like to rob Seraphina of her chance to properly introduce us.”

* * *

Leo couldn’t quite remember what had transpired between the stranger leaving the tea shop, and how he got himself home with a tin of tea and a bottle of honey. 

It was hard for him to even describe the emotion he had. Surprise? Relief? Happiness? Anxiety?

All four, perhaps. 

Sera wasn’t dead. 

Nero’s parents are here!

Nero might have a brother?

What does this mean for the future?

By the time he got home, he was in such a trance that his wife took one look at him and had to ask him: “Honey, are you okay?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Leo glanced around, and remembered that Kyrie and Nero were at school, while Credo was at his sword training course today. 

Leo wasn’t even supposed to be home yet, though he did assign half of his day to free roaming the city. 

It was a perfect opportunity for Leo to take a deep breath, and tell his wife: “Nova, Sera’s _alive_.”

* * *

The next day, Leo left his usual duties to the wayside under the reasoning that he was going to take a look at the situation of Fortune Castle himself. The Vicar had a brief chat with him in the morning, quite convinced that something connected to The Saviour was happening there, and that he was very interested in what Leo might find. He had suggested at first that Leo bring a team with him, but he declined with the reasoning and certainty that it was not good to spook the castle’s new occupant, who must clearly be the white haired foreigner that the entire island has now heard about. 

And Leo resolved to worry about what he was going to report back with, later. 

Nova had gone out of her way to gather last minute ingredients to put together her speciality for what she jokingly called a “housewarming gift.”

“If Sera… if it truly is Sera,” Nova rambled as she boxed the tiramisu that she insisted Leo must bring, as it was Sera’s favorite, “Tell her how happy it is to know she’s safe. We don’t know what happened to keep her away, but I really hope that she would stay.”

Leo didn’t want to keep her hopes up, however. “Nova, she may only… She might only be back for Nero.”

“Then even if she’s here to take her child home, tell her I hope to meet that mysterious significant other of hers, and the apparent second child. Sera was _family_ to us, Leo. Let family meet each other, before she leaves again. Give us the chance to tell them everything of how wonderful Nero is, and how proud they can be of him.”

So, with dessert and an invitation, Leo made his way to Fortuna Castle. 

For the first time in decades, he felt like a nervous wreck again. This almost could compare to the ceremony of his formal promotion. 

Who truly awaited him beyond the castle doors?

And after a journey with only him and his thoughts, mere paces away from the castle doors that he had never stood so close to in his life back when the barrier remained unbroken, he was almost startled (though still surprised) at the sudden voice from above the door:

“Well, whaddya know! Our guest arrives on time!”

Leo reached for his sword and looked up to see what was clearly a demonic bird, who flapped its (his?) wings and rustled his feathers to hurry and say: “Hey, chill! Chill! No need to pull out your fancy sword just for me. I’m just the door greeter! Mr. cool-and-brooding Darkslayer can’t be bothered to greet you at the door himself-- I mean, I’m just making sure only the right people come in, you know.”

As the bird-demon said this, the door actually opened, revealing Leo’s host, who was still well-dressed in blue, but seemed more in his element at the large doors of the castle than out in a tea shop. 

“You came.” He said with a slight nod. 

Before Leo could respond, the demon bird squawked: “Hey, who would want to refuse an invitation from our Angel? What did you expect?”

“Griffon, your commentary was not requested.”

“Hey, I have the freedom to say almost whatever I want now! I can even call you out on being a numbskull, and you can’t try to stab me, because it’ll make your kid sad! I’m not afraid of ya! The Missus, though? Her disappointment hurts more than your fancy sword. Heh!” Yet, seemingly still trying to dodge the man’s wrath, Griffon swooped from the bust he was perched upon, and swiftly flew into the castle. 

Leo couldn’t help but be momentarily dumbfounded. Was that perhaps a demon familiar? Leo felt like he learnt much just from hearing this brief exchange, but couldn’t quite process it all as he was beckoned inside:

“Do come in. Sera is eager to see you again.”

_Sera._

So he calls her with familiarity, too. 

Following, Leo found it in himself to remember and bring up: “My wife urged me to bring this. It’s Tiramisu.”

Glancing down at the box in his hands, his host nodded, and received it. “Allow me to bring it back with proper silverware and plates, then. Griffon?”

“Ugh, what a slavedriver. Fine, fine. This way, good General.”

Reluctantly, Leo followed Griffon towards the opposite direction, down a hall towards what was likely a sitting room. Griffon perched outside of the door with a “In ya go,” and the scene Griffon led him to was interesting, to say the least.

The castle itself was a little chilly, but the sitting room was warmed by a lit fireplace. The furniture was a little old but still in usable condition, and even the books upon the tall shelves lining one of the walls looked no worse for the wear. 

He saw Sera, first. Surely, the woman with the same shade of blonde for her hair, with her back turned towards him, would be her? But her attention was towards a giant dark golem in front of the bookshelves. 

Leo blinked. 

No, it wasn’t the golem. She was looking up at the child sitting in the golem’s outstretched palm. This child must be Vitale, he realized. A little thin, for an eight-year-old, and he had a shock of white hair. If Leo weren’t already a little stunned by the scene of a child atop a demonic golem, then it was how after Vitale reached the book he wanted, the golem melted away once the child was lowered back down into Sera’s arms, and the same black colour of the golem flowed through his white hair like ink covering a page. 

“Mama, I got it!” Vitale grinned. 

“You did! Let’s see what you have here… _The Codex on Properties of Demonic Flora_. Oh dear, you may want to let papa look at that before you start reading it…”

Wanting to ascertain if what he was seeing was real, Leo said softly: “Sera?”

And when she turned, he was filled with joy and relief. It was her!

“Leo! Oh, Leo, you came! I wasn’t sure if you would, but Vergil was certain that mentioning my name was enough.”

The number of questions Leo had only increased, and he wasn’t sure which one to ask first. “You’re back! What happened to you? Why didn’t you come to me directly? And this is…?”

Sera opted to answer the last question, first: “Leo, this is Vitale. He doesn’t mind going by V. V, this is Supreme General Leo. He’s a good friend of mine.”

“You’re a general?” Vitale asked, much to Leo’s surprise. 

“Yes, I am. I am the Supreme General of the Holy Knights for the Order of the Sword.” Would any of this mean anything to the child?

“Is the Order of the Sword good?”

Leo just about faltered. Is the Order of the Sword _good_? That was a somewhat preposterous question for him! But at his moment of hesitation, V continued: “Papa was a general, too. But the devil he served was very very mean.”

As the Supreme General of the Holy Knights, Leo couldn’t help but hold fast to what he was taught, and what he believed in, as he said with resolution: “The Order of the Sword is as good as Sparda is just. We serve Sparda’s will.”

What Leo didn’t anticipate, was V’s response: “Sparda? You work for grandpa Sparda? Papa and Uncle Dante said they didn’t know where grandpa went. Is he here?”

It was rare for him to feel like he’s losing his cool. _“Grandpa?”_ He stared. 

And, from the doorway: “Are you certain it’s wise to be letting him know about that, Sera? I understand your history, but he’s still the leader of the militia to my father’s _cult._ ”

The amount of shock and indignation that was now going through Leo felt enough to make him pass out. He turned to face the doorway, as Sera sighed:

“If I’m to have trust with him, then I will not keep this secret. He is family to me, as much as you are, Vergil.”

“Papa! Is it true? He works for Sparda? Wasn’t Sparda also a General under Meanie Mundus?”

Nevermind the entire family history being laid out here. _Mundus_ was hardly a name Leo wanted to hear about, in light of everything! Few may remember the name of the Demon King whom Sparda rebelled against to seal away, but those who were higher-up in the Order were privy to the legends and even bare documentation of Sparda’s Justice. 

Vergil set the ornate plate of tiramisu plus serving utensils upon the coffee table, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he neared them. “You would have to forgive me for being skeptical, Sera. It’s only been three months since… Well, no matter. It is… good, to finally meet you, General Leo.” There was a pause, and Vergil glanced away. “I know not what more I need to introduce myself with. You have my name now. There is little else I would care to introduce myself as.”

Little else? Leo almost wanted to go into hysterics. There was nothing “little else” about this! 

And he actually yelped when a _giant black cat_ rubbed against his leg. 

“Shadow!” V called out. Sera set the boy down for him to go play with what was obviously a giant demon cat. Griffon finally came in, too, and in what was probably a pre-planned distraction, Leo watched in bafflement as V was allowed to leave the room with the demons after Sera deftly handed the _demonic cat_ a slice of tiramisu on a plate, and told the child to share a little and enjoy it in his room with his friends. (The large tome V had previously taken from the shelf was forgotten on the floor, and Sera handed it to Vergil, who took one look at the cover, raised an eyebrow, and set it aside.)

Finally, Sera motioned for everyone to sit down. 

“I’m sorry, Leo, I know everything is sudden, and you probably have questions to no end… but can we ask you something first?” She started with pouring out the tea that was already prepared. Leo could tell that it was the very tea he had recommended to Vergil the day before. 

Trying to steady his nerves, after everything he’s witnessed and learnt so far, Leo lost the wits to be able to anticipate what was to be asked of him, and took a sip of the offered tea only to say: “I don’t believe I’m in a position to refuse.”

There was an anxious smile on Sera’s face, as she reached over and touched Vergil’s arm ever so lightly. “You should ask.”

“I don’t think--”

“We talked about this already. You should ask. You’ve been worried, too.”

Leo waited, anticipation giving him anxiety. 

And finally, Vergil seemed to find it in himself to ask: “We had been looking for… well, Griffon found him. But I believe there’s a child in your care that…” His sentence tapered off as he noticed how Leo’s expression morphed to show the realization of “of course!” that went through his mind. 

“Nero! Yes, you’re here for him, aren’t you?”

Vergil glanced over at Sera, seemingly uncertain. But Sera inhaled, and brought her hands up to her lips in emotional joy: “Nero? Oh, is that his name? Nero?” Tears were welling up in the corners of her eyes. “Nero…”

But Vergil’s emotion was a lot more muted, if not a little pained. Threading his fingers together and leaning forward with a downcast mood, he muttered: “Nero, huh… a strong name.” There was a pause, before he then said softly: “I should have been there, back then. For him, and for you.”

The questions and curiosities became never-ending. Leo set the teacup down, and offered with a more clear mind now: “I’m sure there’s a lot to discuss, and stories to exchange. We can start wherever you want. We can start with Nero. I’ll tell you everything about him. He’s a very sweet kid, underneath that brashness. Or if you want, we can start with… you know…” He indicated towards the two of them. “About what pulled you away from Nero.”

Sera was most definitely crying now, as she said: “Oh, Leo, please. Tell us about Nero, first.”

* * *

Nero was beginning to grow increasingly concerned. 

There’s been a lot of… buzzing, that didn’t escape his notice. And just because he was a kid didn’t mean he was ignorant to the things he heard. 

He couldn’t help it. The words “white” and “hair” were hard for him to ignore. No matter how many times he had been told to just ignore the things that people would say about him, it was hard to not _notice_. 

And it didn’t help that he could hear really well. Or, so he thinks. Certain adults have told him before that he needed to stop eavesdropping, but he swears he isn’t trying to! People just don’t whisper soft enough…

And maybe people should just realize that they shouldn’t talk bad about other people at all, if they didn’t want to be heard.

Nero understood that white hair wasn’t an impossibility, except it was usually something that only happened to people who got really really old. Despite there having been a few people who would tell him that white hair was seen as a blessing of Sparda, Nero would rather not have the hair colour he had. 

The culture’s propensity for conformity wins out in comparison to beliefs in blessings. Children were more wont to make fun of Nero simply for being different. This easily soured Nero’s ability to play nice, as a child trying to protect his fragile heart. The workers of the orphanage found his “unruly behaviour” to be an indication that he was beyond help. All too quickly, people wanted to latch on to the fact that he was abandoned, and perpetuated the idea that he was a child of unclean roots by Fortuna’s standards. 

So they talked, and he heard.

Except, after a few days of recent events, Nero began to realize that people were talking about someone else. An adult. Not _him_. 

And he became curious at first. When he overheard one of his classmates talk about this foreigner, he asked them about him. 

Except the jeering response he received was less than kind: “What? Do you think he’ll ask for you? Dream on. No one wants you.”

At ten years old, Nero knew better now than to throw hands with his peers. But that didn’t mean words didn’t _hurt_. 

But he kept it to himself. He didn’t need to burden Kyrie, or even Credo and their parents, about any more of this. He simply reminded himself that he didn’t need anyone else. Just his foster family. 

So, the days went on, and he simply listened, and kept to himself. 

Whispers came to him through the grapevine, of how the foreign man had a sickly child with him. Later, there were whispers that people thought someone was living in Fortuna Castle. And recently, there was hushed talk and rumors that perhaps Sparda has returned. 

Nero didn’t put much care into whether or not The Saviour was back. As far as he was concerned, nothing about The Saviour did him any good. 

But he still asked Leo one day: “Is any of it true?”

The way Leo looked at him that day, for asking the question, was with some form of happiness that Nero wasn’t sure how to interpret. Perhaps Sparda did come back, and that’s what Leo’s happy about?

“Not everything is to be believed. But there can often be grains of truth in rumors. How about this: would you like to come to Fortuna Castle with me tomorrow?” He asked. 

What?

“What?” Even Credo sounded baffled. 

Leo simply smiled, and answered: “Why don’t we all make a trip out of it tomorrow?”

“Father??”

Nero had never heard such a baffled tone from Credo before. But while Credo questioned his dad on what in the world was going on, and Nero saw how there was a glint of anticipation in Leo’s expression regarding this trip, he grew curious. 

So, the next day, with great curiosity and anxiety, Nero found the entire family piled into the car. 

It felt like just another family outing, those rare things Nero has been able to enjoy since Kyrie’s family took him in. He cherished these, and felt a little more at ease as they actually drove towards the gates out the city that led towards Fortuna Castle.

Everyone was in a great mood, even Credo. Not that Credo was always sour, but Credo was always serious. And the day before, he had a very hush-hush and serious discussion with his parents about _how and why_ they were going to Fortuna Castle. Eventually, Leo and Nova led their teenage son elsewhere for the conversation, and Nero respectfully stayed far enough to not pick up on the conversation. 

Whatever it was Credo was told, his concerns have been melted away. 

And in the back of the car, Kyrie asked: “Are you excited to see the castle?”

“I never thought I’d set foot in anything like it.” He whispered back. 

“I’m honestly surprised to find it liveable at all…” Credo muttered. 

Nero turned towards him, eyes wide: “You mean people are actually living there? I thought no one could enter!”

“Well, um… not without an invitation, I suppose.” Credo seemed to deflect the question a little.

Eventually, they arrived. The double doors of the castle were huge, and Nero looked up with awe. 

Kyrie remarked: “It’s old, but it still looks like a beautiful castle.”

And then a voice from above said: “And it’s too big, if you ask me! But lookie, you brought the whole family!”

Kyrie screamed when what was clearly a demonic bird swooped down from above to land on the bridge railing to the side. Nero immediately got in front of her, for though he was small, he wouldn’t stop to protect what mattered to him. 

And the demonic bird chuckled: “Awe, how cute. You’ve got the heart of a knight already. Well, what are you waiting for? Come on in. Door’s open.”

Nero felt confused as Leo pushed open the door to let everyone in. Was their host a demon bird?

But it quickly became clear that Leo has been inside this castle before. He gave everyone a little bit of time to be wowed at the entrance hall, and then beckoned for them to follow the demonic bird that flew in and down a hall. “Let’s go to a warmer room.”

The door to said room was closed at first, but just when they were a few paces away, the door opened, and Nero was surprised to see another kid in this castle. 

The boy peeked out the door, and immediately brightened when he saw them. “You’re here!”

The slightly younger child pushed the door open further with as much strength as he could muster. Nero heard a woman’s voice from beyond the doors softly say: “V, wait a mome-- Oh!”

Suddenly, a large black cat slipped through the doors, and bounded up to them. Nero saw from the corner of his eye that Credo reached for his nonexistent sword, yet Leo didn’t react. In fact, both Leo and Nova had bright smiles while Kyrie actually exclaimed: “Oh! Big kitty!”

And the big kitty came up specifically to Nero, and sniffed him. Surprised, he reached out to see if maybe he ought to pet what was obviously a demonic cat, and the cat licked his palm. 

“Shadow likes you!” The young boy has caught up to the big cat that was apparently aptly named Shadow. Glancing behind the boy, Nero noticed that the owner of the female voice was smiling as she leaned against the open door. 

Shadow nuzzled against Nero, and Nero couldn’t help but giggle. The whiskers tickled. 

“She doesn’t always like people. But you’re Nero, right?”

“Uh… yeah.” Why did he know his name? “Um… You’re…?”

It was only now that Nero took a good look at the boy that was bouncing with excitement. Were those _tattoos_? Nero’s not sure he’s ever seen tattoos of that scale before. There were very few people on Fortuna who had tattoos, and most of them were small elegant things. There was still something to be said about the elegance of the swirling patterns, but he had to admit, he’s never seen a child with tattoos before. 

“Vitale! I’m your younger brother!”

Nero’s brain came to a screeching halt as he looked Vitale over. Vitale was beaming at him, but the first thing Nero noticed was how his hair was black. And Nero really wasn’t sure where _else_ he was supposed to look for similarities. But Vitale kept talking: “You can also call me V! Mama and Papa have been hoping to have you home soon. I’m not very used to this place yet, but it will be nice to have someone closer to my age around. That’s what mama tells me, at least.”

While Nero was trying to make sense out of everything, from behind him, Credo muttered to his father: “Is it just me, or am I not understanding _anything_ this child is saying?”

Somewhat frowning, Leo could only respond: “Yes, right… They did say he was having trouble adjusting, and would default to Infernal…”

_“The demonic language?”_

And the only thing Nero could say was: “What? What do you mean? I can understand…” And then he clammed up. He was different enough already, and he didn’t want to add another thing to his list of peculiarities. 

V became flustered, and this time, Nero noticed a shift in his speech, as he actually spoke in English: “I’m sorry! Mama said I spent too many years growing up in Hell, and only spoke what is called Infernal for a long time. But I can read very well in English! And in Latin!”

Nero didn’t care about the reading part. Or even the language part. He heard the woman at the door speak back into the room: “Vergil, won’t you come greet everyone?”

“There should be no need, when our guests would be more comfortable in here, instead. We can be introduced, then.” Said a soft voice from within. 

The woman chuckled, while Leo actually laughed, and ushered everyone forward. “Go on, now.” 

Most of this was directed at Nero. Shadow slinked back into the room while V excitedly pulled at Nero’s hand. With a handful of steps forward, Nero was led up to the tall blonde woman, who regarded him with a warm fondness that made his heart pound. As V pulled him past her and into the room, Nero turned his head to regard her for just a moment longer. 

She held the door open long enough to let the rest of Leo’s family in, and before Nero knew it, she came up to him, and knelt down to sweep both him and V up into her arms. Only now did Nero belatedly realize there was some odd manner of vestments about her arms. 

“Oh, look at you! Look at you both!” 

Nero remained stunned as the woman placed a kiss on both his forehead and on V’s. V giggled as she hugged them both close, while Nero couldn’t help but look over at him, baffled. 

There was a lot of nuzzling, and a lot of her running her hands through their hair. “Oh, my sweet angels, both of you. Now my heart can rest easy…”

Nero couldn’t believe it. Was this real? Fearfully, he uttered the word he didn’t think he’d ever say. He never could bring himself to call Leo and Nova his parents. Would he be able to bring himself to believe, this time?

“...Mom?”

“Oh, Nero!” She seemed to be on the verge of tears, and held them both tighter. V squirmed a little.

“Is mama okay? You’re crying…”

And a new voice, the soft voice from before, came up behind Nero and V to say: “Even tears can be happy ones, I suppose, as Dante said before.”

Nero pulled himself away, and the woman (his mother?) loosened her hold to let him turn around. The sight of the tall man in blue kneeling down before them actually startled Nero. In fact, he felt a little…

Afraid. 

His fear must have shown, as he made the mistake of taking half a step back when the white-haired man reached towards him. At this proximity, Nero felt something strange from him. Something that felt like pressure. Similar to what Shadow and Griffon exuded. In fact, similar to what he felt faintly off of V and their mother. But whatever this was, it was several times stronger, coming from this man. 

And Nero felt like he must have messed up, when he saw dejection flicker through the adult’s expression. 

“He fears me, Sera.” He whispered. 

“You can be a little intimidating sometimes, you know?” Was the teasing response. “But none of us have really been properly introduced yet. Here. Nero? Would you allow me to pick you up?”

If Nero were to be honest, he’s not sure if he would like to be picked up. He was 10, and he also knew he was pretty heavy now. By all means, he was past the age of being picked up. “Um, I’m a bit too old for that…”

“No one’s too old for that, so long as the person doing the work can actually hold the weight.” Sera laughed, and Nero was amazed at several things at once: How carefree her personality was, how warm she felt, and how easily she actually picked him up. 

As she stood up, V tugged at the man’s coat, and asked: “Please?” It didn’t take much convincing at all, as V was also picked up. Sera stroked Nero’s cheek with all the affection that a mother would show, and grinned as she said: “Nero, I’m Seraphina Valkyrie. I’m your mother, and I’ve been very very worried about you ever since we were separated. Leo told me you had been in an orphanage for a long time, and I want to let you know that I never intended to leave you, and I’m so glad that you’re safe, and healthy.” 

She kissed him on the cheek, and directed his attention to the other two apparent members of the family. 

“You’ve already met Vitale. This is your little brother. He’s eight. I wasn’t able to tell him about you until I was certain I would meet you again, but he’s been excited to meet you, ever since. I hope the two of you will be able to get along, from here forward. And, I hope the two of you won’t get into too much trouble, from here on out, either.”

The teasing note left Nero’s heart beating faster. The implications of having his _own_ family to live with from now on was actually setting in, but he couldn’t help but glance over to the family who had raised him for the past few years, not quite wanting to leave them, either. 

They were all respectfully standing off to the side for now, and Leo smiled back at him, and canted his head just slightly over to bring Nero’s attention back to V and… 

This must be their father, then, right?

There was a moment of silence, before Sera whispered: “You should make the introduction yourself, dear.”

Something about him reminded Nero very much of Credo, who was always trying to put on a serious air. But even Credo had moments of softness, and embarrassment. And in this case, this stranger of a man also could have moments of being abashed. 

Clearing his throat, while glancing away momentarily, he finally formed the words to say: “Hello Nero. I am… Vergil.” Again, another pause. “I suppose I’m your father…”

Nero couldn’t help but mutter with a bit of confusion and even disappointment at the phrasing: “You suppose…?”

“I…”

And Vitale cut in: “Papa was not himself for a long time.” It was almost like he was defending him. “There was a very very mean devil, and he hurt us. He hurt papa the most.” V snuggled himself closer into Vergil’s shoulder, one hand holding on to his coat as if the man wouldn’t be there anymore if he didn’t. “He’s trying.”

Though it was such a simple explanation, Nero understood what it was like to be hurt. 

And he understood how being hurt made it hard to speak the truths in your heart. Made it easy for you to want to hide. 

And though he knew he often had his own issues answering the question truthfully, he gazed at this stranger, his father, and asked with true concern: “Are you okay?”

And though it took Vergil a moment to answer, he nodded slightly, and responded: “I will be better, so long as I have family at my side.”

The significance of this line held a deeper meaning to Vergil than it did to Nero, but even if Nero didn’t know yet of the history of his family, his understanding of the sentence was still personal and intimate; it was an understanding that came from a child who started out in an orphanage, connecting with a parent who was once also orphaned. 

Nero glanced between Vergil, Sera, and Vitale, thinking about how he should respond. 

But in his heart, he knew the truth. Doubt was washed away, and finally, the tears of both relief and excitement began to set in. 

He bawled, and Sera patted him on the back, saying: “There, there.”

There were a lot of disjointed sentences coming from him, asking if this was real, asking if he’d actually be living with them from now on, and asking: “But what about…” He glanced over at the family who had taken him in until now. 

Eventually, his attention was brought to the fact that Leo and Nova had actually known Sera before. Credo had stepped forward to speak with Sera, but before he could say anything, Sera brightened with a smile:

“Credo! Look at you, you’ve grown even taller than me, now! The last time I saw you, you were only six…”

Credo opened his mouth, but then closed it again as he flushed. 

Next up was Kyrie, whom Sera fawned over, having last seen her as a baby. Before long, all the adults plus Credo had a lot of questions for Seraphina and Vergil, and Nero found Kyrie approaching him and V, firstly to ask V: “Is the kitty yours?”

“Yes! This is Shadow! Aunty Trish says she’s one of my familiars, but I like to just call her my friend. I have other friends, too!”

Shadow didn’t seem to mind Kyrie petting her on the head. The large feline demon even purred. That was when the bird suddenly materialized, as if he came from the tattoos on V’s arms:

“Heya! Guess now that the adults are all talking, we can go somewhere else? Oh, oh, I know!” He glided over to land on the back of the couch between where Vergil and Sera were sitting. Vergil immediately looked unhappy that the bird was getting into his space: “Griffon.” 

“Shhh. Not gonna bother you, oh mighty Darkslayer.” Griffon jokes, and shifts one step over closer towards Sera to “whisper” into her ear, even though everyone could hear: “Hey, how about kitty and I take the kids up to you-know-where?”

Despite him speaking to Sera, Vergil glanced over with a frown: “I thought…”

“What’s the harm? You have loads more you’re going to be showing them. Let V show the kid this surprise!”

Sera laughed, but also waved her hand towards Griffon in a manner to shoo him away. As Griffon flew back towards V, she gently brushed her hand against Vergil’s shoulder, and said: “Let them. He’s right. And even after the surprise, there’s still more to share within that surprise. V should be allowed to show him this one. It’s his right to share it.”

And before Vergil could really respond, Griffon just barreled through the conversation with: “Well, the Missus said it. So it’s a go! Come on, kiddos.” 

V tugged at Nero’s hand with a big grin. “You’re going to love it, I’m sure!”

A little panicked to be taken from the room of familiar and comforting presences, Nero, glanced about in concern, before his gaze landed on Kyrie, who asked:

“Can I come, too?”

V took her hand, too. “Yes! This is exciting! I’ve never had anything to show other people, before! I think the phrase is ‘the more the merrier?’”

Seeing that Kyrie was going to be pulled along, Credo couldn’t help but stand up. “Wait! Perhaps I should--”

Getting impatient, Griffon ruffled his feathers and made motion to fly out through the doors the moment it was to be opened: “Yeah yeah, might as well. Humans. Worrywarts, all of you. Fledglings are still treated like chicks. Still need an adult around.”

“Griffon.” Sera chided. “Humans are not birds. And you’re a demon bird. Some of your kind are lucky to even hatch around a parent.”

Nero found himself led out of the sitting room by V. After going out the doors, V had let go of his and Kyrie’s hands, and Griffon led the way ahead. With Shadow flanking one side, and Kyrie to his other, Nero glanced back to see Credo dutifully bringing up the rear. They all followed V down the halls and even up some stairs. Occasionally, they stopped to look at an old painting, or something ornate. 

“Castle’s still in good shape, if you ask me.” Griffon commented. “Sparda always had better taste than Mundus, if you asked me. But he also had his eccentricities. You know what that word means?”

“You mean grandpa was strange?” V answered.

“Wait, what?” Nero didn’t think he heard right. “What does Sparda have to do with this?”

“The Saviour?” Kyrie seemed more curious than shocked, while Credo seemed like he couldn’t believe what he had just heard:

“Did I just hear you correctly?”

Griffon hovered as best he could to turn towards them for a few wingbeats and said: “What? That Sparda actually lived here? I can still feel remnants of his presence here! That really shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to you natives, who already believed he was here.”

“No, I meant what _he_ said. Did you just refer to Sparda as your _grandfather_?” Credo asked V pointedly. 

“Oh.” Griffon piped down. “Whoops. Forgot that detail hadn’t been mentioned yet.”

Nero had stopped walking, and that forced everyone to come to a halt. V tilted his head and said: “Papa said that we shouldn’t really talk about it with people who weren’t family, but you’re kind of Nero’s family, so it’s okay to talk about it, right?” He asked with wide eyes of worry, and glanced between Griffon and Shadow. 

Griffon could only shrug as he landed on Shadow’s back. “Eh. Seeing as your mommy’s already told the General, eventually these guys would have to find out, right? Besides, Nero would have to know sooner or later.”

And the only thing Nero could blurt out was: “You mean The Saviour was actually _real_? Like, _real_ real?”

“Of course he’s real!” Griffon laughed. 

And V, still a little worried, fidgeted and answered: “I don’t know about the saviour thing. In hell, everyone who hated him called him a traitor. I don’t really know if he was actually nice or not, but everyone said he was very very strong. And I know he was family.” He then added: “Papa has one of his swords! Uncle Dante has the other one. And then they split the third sword between the two of them. No one knows what really happened to grandpa Sparda. But Papa said it’s going to be okay. He said he’ll always be here for us.”

Nero shuffled on his feet. This was big news to him. “Um… this is weird. Very weird. I really don’t feel all that special. I really didn’t even believe much in all the stuff about Sparda, either, so this is… does this make me bad?”

And it was Kyrie who took his hand in hers, smiled, and said: “You’re still you, Nero. Nothing will change that. It’s… amazing, that you’re a tangible connection to Lord Sparda. But… I think it’s going to be all right. You don’t have to be anyone different, or do anything different. Right?” The last part, she directed at V and Griffon. 

Griffon chuckled. “Right-o. Well, I think your pops learnt his lesson on trying to follow daddy’s footsteps too closely. Don’t let it bother you, kiddo. That’s for another day. Come on!”

Everyone started to follow Griffon and V again, but Kyrie’s hand was still in his. Behind them, Credo cleared his throat, and said softly: “In the end, we are what we make of ourselves, right? The Saviour… well, this is a bit of a shock, but you are decidedly still who you make yourself to be, Nero.”

As they stopped in front of a door in a cozy hallway, V was also grinning: “I didn’t know I was related to Sparda for a long time, too. So it’s okay to feel weird about it, Nero. But grandpa isn’t really around anymore, so I just care about the family I have right now. And you’re family, too!”

Before Nero could really figure out what to respond with, V opened the door they were stopped at. 

It revealed a large bedroom. 

It was a bedroom for two. And V led them all inside. 

Nero saw how the room was distinctly separated into two halves, by two different wallpaper patterns. While both sides were furnished, one side looked actually lived-in. That side was the one with dark wallpaper of a starry night sky. There were two decently sized bookshelves, one of them already partially full of books on the shelves. The desk has papers and pencils on it, with pages of someone’s writing practice. It was unpolished, and wobbly, like the handwriting of someone just learning how to write. The top page so far had “VITALE” written several times over. 

There was also a perch that Griffon landed on, and a large pet bed. 

Nero concluded that this must be V’s bedroom. He noticed also that V’s bedding was curiously covered with a fur pelt. 

Glancing over at the other side, where the wallpaper was of clear skies and white clouds, he saw a perfectly made bed of navy blue bedding, with plush quilting. The desk was empty, as was the one bookshelf. There was a large chest on that side of the room, also. Glancing back, he noticed a trunk at the end of V’s bed. The room was not perfectly mirrored. 

But that didn’t matter to Nero. Growing up the way he did, he didn’t care one bit that he would be sharing this room. In fact, it’s what he would prefer. 

Turning to V, he said in awe: “This was prepared for me?”

“Yes!” V went over to Nero’s side of the room, and patted the bedding. “Mama and papa asked General Leo about you, and wanted to make you feel welcome. Mama wasn’t sure if you would have liked animal or demon fur, though. I like the pelts better. I can let you borrow mine!”

Griffon chuckled. “Vergil went through some effort to get those. Back in hell, he lined the whole bed with those things. I’m sure your mommy wouldn’t mind parting with one of hers for you, later.”

Kyrie glanced around the room, eyes sparkling. “Oh, this is a wonderful room. I think you’ll be very comfortable here.”

Nero could tell already that this was all for him. And he couldn’t be more happy. It reminded him of the efforts Kyrie’s family had put in, to make him welcome. But this…

Something still felt bad to him, though. “I like it. A lot. But…” he glanced at Kyrie and then Credo. “But this means I’ll be far away from the two of you. And Leo, and Nova.”

Hearing this, Kyrie did display a bit of concern. “That… but this is your family, Nero. You should be with them.”

“You won’t be far.” Credo assuaged with finality. “Actually, I’ve brought this up with father already, but apparently you’ll still be attending school normally. And you’re likely to still come back to us after school every so often, while your parents figure things out with the Order. A lot of that stuff, I’m not privy to. But we are not parting, Nero. Not at all. If anything, mother said that she won’t be missing out on inviting you and your family over for dinner. Apparently… and I really shouldn’t speak so about your mother, but cooking variety is not her strong suit.”

Griffon cackled from his perch. “And you better not expect for Vergil to cook. Spent too much time in hell like the rest of us.”

* * *

Kyrie’s family stayed for as long as they could that day. Nero wasn’t privy to everything that was discussed, as V took him, Kyrie, and Credo about to the parts of the castle that were cleaned up and allowed visitation. Eventually, Nova and Sera made use of the kitchen, and they stayed for dinner. 

And after they had left, Nero found himself not even touching his new bed that first night. 

He and V found themselves both swaddled among blankets and furs, in their parents' bed. Sleepily, Nero finally found the chance to ask all the questions he had on his mind. 

In the short time before he fell asleep, he learnt a few things. 

Father wasn’t one to talk much. But Mother would coax him to, at the right times. 

Nero asked again about Sparda, wanting to know more. He was given a story about how nothing was infallible. They explained to him that, while it was true he was part devil, what was going to be important was where his heart lay. 

He felt like he should have been scared and disappointed that he was actually some sort of inhuman creature, but Kyrie had always made him feel human. So did Kyrie’s family. And being soothed by the presence of his real family, who fought through hell to come back to him, he didn’t feel as apprehensive as he thought. 

He fell asleep, and woke up early in the morning to find that Vergil hadn’t exactly slept through the night, but instead had been keeping vigil at the side of the bed. 

It was comforting, though he asked: “You didn’t sleep?”

“I don’t require as much sleep as you would, child.” After a pause, he then added: “It was more comforting to watch over all of you. As I should have been here for, from the start.”

The day was spent with further questions and answers. By mid-morning, Vergil left the castle to run a few errands, which apparently also involved meeting certain people of the Order. But both he and Sera assured Nero that it was nothing for him to be concerned about. 

Nero had to admit, having been with Kyrie’s family, he noticed that his mother wasn’t as adept at house chores as Nova is. But his mother was apparently a knight! And she immediately did not mind play-fighting with him. 

V, as it turns out, didn’t enjoy sparring as much as Nero does, but the two of them enjoyed talking and learning about each other. Nero was very fascinated by how he was able to understand the Infernal language that V spoke, and when Vergil came back, he even asked his father if he could teach him how to speak Infernal. 

Griffon had laughed. “Hey, if anything, I was the one who taught the little poet how to speak it! I could teach you, too!”

Come evening, Nero got to learn a little more about his family. About his uncle, who apparently worked as a devil hunter in the mainland. And about a devil-woman named Trish that V referred to as “Aunty Trish”, which meant she was Aunty to Nero, too, right? Vergil didn’t like to elaborate about Trish, however. 

Nero was a little disappointed to know that V won’t be attending school with him, nevermind that they wouldn’t be in the same year to begin with. But his mother’s explanation made sense: V hadn’t been in the human world for all of his life. School would be too big of an adjustment for him, just yet. 

And even Nero had to admit, everything was going to be a big adjustment for him, too. 

Tomorrow was a new school week. 

It was going to be the first day he was going to be brought to school by his parents. 

He was excited, but also nervous. But Kyrie will be there, so everything will be alright. 

If given the chance, Nero knew that he would have a lot to share. Of course, there were a few things he had to keep to himself… even he didn’t want everyone else to know about the “kin of Sparda” thing. That was still weirding him out a little. 

But in the two days he got to know his family, he would be happy to tell people all about them. How his mom is a Holy Knight with very cool weapons on her arms, and that soon she’ll be back among the Order’s ranks again. (He didn’t know the implications of the drama that would unfold from it, but when it does happen, their family was resilient, and Seraphina would be damned if she let the prejudice get out of hand this time.)

How he now has a little brother, who likes to read, and is learning to write, and maybe someday he’ll come to school, too. 

But the coolest thing so far, was something that Vergil had showed him and V, the night before, and promised them:

“I will teach you how to fight, just as my father did. Your mother, of course, will help. But as of right now, this is the first thing I can offer to the two of you, beyond just my protection. We now live among the Order of the Sword, after all. It is only right that you learn how to wield a blade, as it is your birthright.”

Father was a bit strange sometimes, but Nero had always wanted to learn more swordsmanship. Credo sometimes showed him a few things, but Leo didn’t have a lot of time to really train him. 

Vergil showed them both the Yamato, and Nero was immediately wowed. 

Yamato was a beautiful sword. Now, Nero wasn’t sure if it was necessarily his style of weapon, but whatever his father was going to teach him, he was going to be excited for it. 

“Sparda gave me this blade, when I was young. Though this means this shall one day be yours or Vitale’s inheritance, I do not anticipate it being passed down anytime soon, for parting with this blade often denotes the end of its wielder. Still, you have every right to learn of it. And I’m sure, in due time, when you are older, we will find appropriate blades for the two of you.”

The years to come, of course, were going to be full of trials for them all. 

Just as Nero quickly found himself endeared to his new parents and his sibling, it wouldn’t be long before Dante and Trish would visit. With such distinctive family members in his life, each with their own flair, Nero would learn a lot, and sometimes even come to frustrate his parents, mainly his father. 

There will be some mild arguments, as he grew up. There will be times of strife, as one day, Sanctus and Agnus were going to make the biggest mistake of their lives with their experimentation. There will also be moments of hilarity, and moments of tears. But by the end of it all, Nero found that he had around himself not just the safety of the castle walls of Fortuna Castle, but most importantly, the safety formed from his family that he could always return to, when things got rough. 

There would come a day in the future where he would speak of this, with his father:

“You know, dad, I don’t know where I’d be now, if you and mom didn’t find me. Not worse, I guess. Kyrie and them were always good to me. But damn… looking back on some things, if you hadn’t been here, I think this island would have made a mess of itself.”

“You would remind me again, of that idiot Vicar who thought he knew best what the will of my father was?” Vergil smirked. 

“That was so _pathetic_. I’m surprised you let Agnus live, though. Not that I’m complaining.” Nero checked the parts to his new sword, the Red Queen, as he cleaned his blade. “He made this, after all.”

“I saw a measure of potential in him, though it pains me to recognize it at all. He required supervision and a stern set of boundaries. You should thank your mother for that, however. She was the one who saw potential in the blade’s development and convinced me to spare the fool.”

Nero couldn’t help but smile. “Mom makes you a better person, huh?”

“That is subjective to say.” As always, his father tended to deflect and hide the truth of his feelings, though his expression lacked the scowl that would have told of displeasure. 

“It’s okay. I get it now, I think. Can’t let people think we’re _too_ soft, right?” He just grinned back at him, and then stood up to place his sword at his back, ready to head out. “Well, usual routine, then. I’ll be the good cop and you be the bad cop. Let’s go see what this Goldstein girl wanted, trying to break into Order HQ?”

“I have my guesses, seeing as Agnus was in cold sweat when he found out. But let us be off.”

Nicoletta Goldstein was going to find herself in a lot less scary of a situation than she thought, and eventually, some day, she will be putting her skills to use for the most fearsome devil hunters of the planet, and maybe even help save the world. 

But that’s another story of another day. (Which was just another day of Mundus having not learnt his lesson the first, or the second time.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- By bird standards, I guess Credo is considered an adult. Griffon might be a demon bird, and the “stages of life” might not be entirely the same for him, but he sure has latched on to human terminology in my headcanon.  
> \- I had SO much more I wanted to illustrate, but believe me, that would have made this story about 12 chapters long. So… no. I think I’ll leave things open for me to fill in one-shots later. Hmmm Dadgil week should be coming up again. This is a perfect platform for it.  
> \- Also, I already have an additional one-shot in mine for this, because Sera and Vergil will need some more in-depth reconciliation. Stay tuned.


End file.
